


Lessons in Time Management

by KnockKnockBadminton



Series: Lessons in Etiquette [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M, Smut, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-09-07
Packaged: 2018-10-12 07:18:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 38,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10485336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KnockKnockBadminton/pseuds/KnockKnockBadminton
Summary: Starts immediately where my previous work, Lessons In Etiquette, left off. Read that story first!Noctis and Prompto have a week before they get to Altissa, where Noctis is finally to be wed to Luna. Prompto suggests using the week to unair their unrequited feelings and desires, so as to be better able to focus on their roles as King and Glaive instead of secret lovers. They come to realize the love they had left behind in high school will be much harder to shake than a week can allow. Their journey to Altissa brings them even closer than before, and the two are unable to resolve their feelings for one another, no matter what kind of future The Six or peace treaties want for them both.





	1. It Never Stops Being Awkward

The palms of Noctis’ hands are curled against Prompto’s cheeks, anchoring him steady as his body threatens to fall from the leather couch slightly too big for the both of them. He quickly pushes his messy black hair out of his eyes, straddling his best friend beneath him. Prompto regrets not having changed out of the leathers of his Kingsglaive uniform, the fabric moist and oppressively restrictive against his quickly heating, sweaty skin. Noctis likewise shares the same regrets, the black of his dress shirt and suit slacks leaving little breathing room for his growing desire.

Their anger, the two nonverbally agree, could wait. The leather of Noctis’s wine red couch utters a squelch of concurrence underneath their movements. It dips as Noctis leans his body atop Prompto’s, the young man instantly bringing his lips back to the crook of Prompto’s neck. He loves the sound of Prompto’s breath catching in his slightly parted lips each time he nips at the sensitive spot, the nape of his neck bruising purple under Noctis’ continued affection. He furrows his brow in irritation, wondering just how many more tantalizingly intimate secrets he could have excavated from Prompto’s passion had they the two years between them, now forever elapsed.

 _‘Save it for later…’_ Noctis internally reminds his own temper, scolding it much like a parent teaching their child patience; his lust being the much needier child indeed. “Arghhh _– fuck!_ ” Noctis swears as bites down on his own tongue accidentally, the sudden, unanticipated feeling of Prompto involuntarily bucking his hips upward against Noctis’ own startling him with a rush of welcomed, fiery adrenaline.

“You alright, dude?!” Prompto shoots up, eyes narrowing with worry as Noctis continues to clasp both hands over his mouth, his molars rubbing repeatedly against the broken flesh of his throbbing tongue. Noctis swings his legs off his friend, pacing slowly around the living room, his groans of agony muffled by his hands.

“I’ll get you some salt water, hold on!” Prompto nervously insists, jumping up from the couch and waving his arms around. Noctis rolls his eyes at the sound of his clumsy friend instantly knocking pots and skillets to the floor, followed by the sharp hiss of a drawn out, _“Owwww!”_

Noctis missed this, missed _Prompto_.

“Who the hell keeps giant heavy pans in the top cabinets?!” Prompto laments, rubbing the crown of his head and wincing in pain. Noctis shrugs, his tongue still too swollen to form any meaningful syllables. He missed Prompto and his stupid questions and silly comments for what often seemed to be everything in the world.

“I don’t think you had it organized this way when I was last over here,” Prompto throws a look over his shoulder toward his friend, who cocks his leg with a slight sassiness as he awaits his water.

 _‘Things change over the course of two years…’_ Noctis wishes to snap, but both his sore mouth and will for patience toward the blonde stop him from uttering such a comeback aloud.

“For real, though…” Prompto’s words are muffled by rush of the tap and the sound of a cup against the granite counter tops. Noctis lowers a hand to swipe the very same cup from Prompto’s hands, desperate for the pain’s remedy. The blonde crosses his defined, muscular arms as Noctis throws his head back and gargles the water, his eyes not missing a single detail of the handsome man he loves.

“How’d you even hurt yourself like that?!” Prompto calls after him softly, Noctis gripping the edge of the counter and spitting into the sink after a half minutes’ worth of self healing.

“…Well…” Noctis starts, his voice deep with amusement. “I wasn’t expecting you to, uh… _bump up against me_ , l-like that…” Noctis nervously stumbles, looking at the ground and swaying slightly. Prompto blanches before laughing uncertainly; the swaying always meant Noctis was avoiding either a subject or a gaze, and the blonde cannot help but infer his friend means to dodge both.

His choice of words leaves Prompto with little doubt that he’d noticed Prompto grinding against him. The blonde cannot even say he had consciously done so; he had been so overcome with the need to feel that licentious closeness with his best friend, he had little presence of mind to assume the motion would cause so much trouble. Noctis drops his hands and his gaze toward the back of the couch. Prompto stares straight ahead at the large grey vent above the stove, just barely keeping Noctis out of focus.

The red of Noctis’ cheeks betrays him, for Prompto knows he mulls the scene over in his head.

“…Did you like it?” Prompto’s shoulders heave as he shakenly sighs his question; too long had the two refused to communicate over their feelings, their intentions, their thoughts and wishes. Now that fate deems their connection all too pertinent to sever, that he is back in Insomnia with the affections of the newly crowned King, he refuses to dance around the weight of their feelings as he had in the past.

“Hello?” Prompto repeats with a hint of sass, furrowing his brows as Noctis sways toward the balcony door, his back to the blonde; he’d picked perhaps the most closed off and evasive man in the entire kingdom to befriend.

“I think I want some fresh air, you want some fresh air?” Noctis’ question is accompanied by the sliding of the glass door in its frame, the young man stepping out onto the decently sized concrete patio. Prompto folds his arms and rolls his eyes, following his friend nonetheless.

“We can’t avoid this forever, you know…” Prompto quietly chides, relaxing into the plush green and white cushion of the lawn chair, curling into it.

“This is coming from the one who spent _two years_ avoiding everything forever?!” Noctis snaps, Prompto growing unamused when he realizes the King does not offer his response as a playful gesture.

“It doesn’t make what I’m saying any less true,” Prompto sits up and leans forward, his arms resting limply against his knees.

“Tchh,” Noctis scoffs, his grey eyes fighting a silent, emotional war with Prompto’s blue ones, one that Prompto feels himself coming closer and closer to losing as the disgruntled look in Noctis’ upturned lip leaves Prompto with a distaste of his own.

“You know what? Maybe we _should_ just have this talk another time…” Prompto stands up swiftly, Noctis matching his motion to grip onto his friend’s arm. “I’m not just gonna sit here and listen to you bitch at me underhandedly, dude!”

“Don’t you think I’ve earned the right?!” Noctis hisses back aggressively, the two of them glaring at one another in silence before Noctis goes to continue.

“I get it, Noct – I get it – “ Prompto cuts him off, finding confidence in his slightly surprised expression, taken aback from having been interrupted. “I’m not trying to say that you shouldn’t feel what it is you feel – I get I was gone for a while, and that I left you in the dark when I didn’t have to – “ he brings a finger to Noctis’ lips, pressing gently upon them when Noctis motions to cut the blonde off. “But we have our whole lives to talk about that, and you can hate me for as long as you want to – “

“I don’t _hate_ you, Prompto – “

“ – but we’re leaving for Altissa first thing in the morning _. My first duty as your Glaive is to see you safely to Altissa so you may wed the Princess Oracle Lunafreya_ ,” Prompto laughs in spite of Noctis and himself at his impression of Ignis’ voice, the last sentence causing Noctis to reluctantly grin as well.

“That wasn’t a half bad job of him…”

“Thanks,” Prompto snorts, though continues onward. “But there’re things we need to talk about _now_ – things we should have talked about two _years_ ago,”

“We have a lot of feelings for each other – I know – “ Noctis starts swaying again, and Prompto knows his insistence is proving successful.

“A _lot_ of them, for a _long_ time – “

 _“I know,”_ Noctis repeats.

“And we only have the five days or so it’ll take us to get there to talk out who we are and what this is…so can you save your frustration with me for just a while longer?” Prompto adds, Noctis sighing as he slowly makes his way to the lawn chair Prompto sits upon, plopping down next to him.

“I mean…” Noctis exhales, scratching behind his neck. Prompto, the jokester of a friend whom Noctis could continuously rely on to take in the world and unravel its stiff, humourless seams, currently sits to Noctis’ left as a voice of reason. He’d never considered Prompto to be stupid, nor had he ever held him to be incapable of rational, mature thought; merely that Prompto’s current role as the arbiter of rationality only emphasizes his point: the anger would have to wait, for the dissection of three years’ worth of unspoken emotion must come first.

There were much greater implausibilities in the world than the emotions he felt for Prompto. Yet Noctis finds each and every distinct feeling, positive or negative, leaves him more confused and overwhelmed than any of Eos’ ancient texts or unsolved scientific mysteries. He’d had two entire years to navigate said feelings, to prepare a solid speech of confessions and clarity, mental arguments meticulously organized and expertly supported.

“What do you mean, _‘what this is’_?” Noctis curiously wonders, though he suspects he knows the answer indeed.

“Umm…” Prompto starts, running his hands nervously along his thighs, jerking his head to observe the alit skyline of Insomnia that surrounds them. He wrinkles his nose at the smell of sulfur, for tenants a handful of floors below light sparklers on their own balcony.

“You know – _us_ …” Prompto whispers, tensing up and covering his ears as the same neighbors strike up a boisterously loud and drunken rendition of the Lucian anthem, replacing certain lyrics with _King Noctis_. Prompto’d forgotten the rest of the Kingdom had the very same man before him on their mind.

“I mean, I said it earlier!” Noctis snaps, almost tantrum like, bringing up his gaze to meet Prompto’s. He clearly finds little distraction in the singing below. Despite the fire in his voice, the blonde knows the aggression is not directed toward him. It is rather his emotions’ attempt breach the mental block that often prevented him from exposing his truest thoughts. The muscles in his face relax as he faces the blonde, whose own features are just as slacked, his thin mouth curled downward in the faintest frown.

“Yeah, and if we leave it at that, like – _look_ , Noct, I – I respect your marriage and your feelings – “ Prompto stutters, careful to keep his voice down, but Noctis shakes his head quickly, the metal of the lawn chair creaking under his weight.

“I – it’s not – it’s not like that –“ Noctis insists, using a hand to hold himself steady as he closes the small amount of space between his thigh and Prompto’s. He slings an arm around his shoulders, using the grip to pull Prompto against him. “It – It – it’s _arranged_ , and I mean, I love her, but not like that – “ Noctis stammers, bringing his hand from Prompto’s shoulder, down to his waist.

“But it’s still a marriage, Noct, and it’s not like Luna knows h-how – _how you feel_ …” Prompto jumps at the sound of a bottle of champagne opening up down below, followed by the collective scream of the still celebrating neighbors. He cannot help but smile slightly, once the shock of the cork popping wears off; the two had snuck many a glass of champagne back in the day, the reminiscence of the bubbly, bitter taste a ghost on the lips he nervously licks –

“And telling her wouldn’t change anything…” Noctis mumbles, Prompto’s eyes widening before he blinks rapidly in silent thought.

“Then we need to figure this out _now_ , Noct. Before Altissa, before your wedding. I’m gonna be your Glaive, I’m gonna be by your side until the end, but you and I both need to just put all of our feelings out there so we can – so we can move on…” Prompto nods, as if trying to physically convince himself of his own argument.

Noctis drops his hands, folding them and looking at his best friend somewhat helplessly.

“So then I guess I’ll start – I really, _really_ love you, Noct…” Prompto pipes, his voice underlined with a subtle desperation in his emotion. He’d never actually uttered the words aloud to his friend before.

“I love _you_ , Prom…” Noctis whispers in return, and instantly he can feel the tension in their shared gaze, their repeated confessions awakening in them both the reminder of what it is they had stopped doing in the first place. The two are quiet as Noctis brings a hand to grip his friend’s, the blonde leaning in for a soft kiss the king does not reject. Noctis is content to express his thoughts through further kisses, the young man pressing a hand to Prompto’s chest, lying him down gently along the lawn chair.

The entire weight of his internal anguish dissipates into a lightheaded nothingness the longer Prompto prevents their lips from parting. Noctis cannot help but nurture the growing passion that coils pleasantly in his abdomen, the sight of the purple blemish on his best friend’s neck a visual indicator of their earlier engagement. Noctis’ body grows hot as his mind registers that _he’d_ left that mark, that he’d finally had the opportunity to paint his best friend in his affection and lust, his mouth a brush Prompto willingly welcomes.

The party on the balcony below them erupts with cheers once more, both young men opening their eyes and pulling apart, their hands exploring one another over top their clothes. Prompto grins and chuckles, unable to contain his amusement at the irony over the fact that the very king they celebrate down below currently straddles him, their breaths lusty and short and tried.

“I gotta say though, dude, it’s weird hearing you say it…” Prompto laughs, Noctis capturing his smile with his lips.

“I mean, it’s kinda weird sayin’ it…” Noctis sheepishly adds, the bass of his hushed voice rumbling against both of their chests.

“In a good way I hope?” Prompto betrays his inner rationale, longingly wishing that Noctis pines for him much the same way Prompto does for him. Thoughts of Noctis holding Luna at the altar, whispering those very same weird words to her gentle frame cruelly flash before his mind’s eye. The blonde closes his two physical ones, shaking the specters of their image away.

“Well, yeah…?” Noctis scratches behind his neck before hoisting himself off the chair and leaning against the edge of the balcony. Prompto does not fail to notice the stiffness in his best friend’s stride; the slight prick of semi-hardness causes a rise in his black suit pants, his cheeks bright red, his body language guarded.

Prompto’s own nervousness shines as he pretends not to notice, wanting to give his friend the courtesy of feigning unawareness. Prompto himself isn’t even ready to address the obvious sexual tension that looms between them, literally in the cases in which the hardness in their pants makes an appearance. They had nearly five days, Prompto muses; best to save such topics for day three or four.

“But I want you to know, like, I love you in all _kinds_ of ways; romantically, platonically, fraternally – your dad made me realize that,” Prompto adds, joining Noctis by leaning with him on the balcony’s edge. The cool, bumpy concrete digs shallow indents in his freckled skin, red stripes embossed by the pressure of the small gravelly stones.

“You talked about it with _my dad_?!” Noctis gasps, stepping backward as Prompto turns his head to glance at him. The hardness in his pants, Prompto notices, seems to have relaxed once more. “He knows, dude – _everyone_ knows how I feel about you. I’ll never stop. It’s part of why I left, because I _tried_ to stop. But you owe it to Lady Luna to be the best husband to her you can be, and – t-t-the people of Eos deserve your union,”

“How long’ve you been practicing this?” Noctis wonders with a genuine curiosity, the blonde instantly glowing red with embarrassment.

“Since you were a _prince_ , man. I mean – it doesn’t matter either way, ‘cause it’s true…” Prompto reinforces his argument.

“You never treated me like a prince, why should me being King be any different?” Noctis asks, his eyes lingering on Prompto's still swollen lips.

“Because you have a kingdom to run, a wife to please…” Prompto catches Noctis’ eyes as they slowly trace the curve of Prompto’s torso, ass, and legs, the blonde relying entirely on the upper half of his body to support his weight.

“I – I like – I dunno how to _please a wife_ , dude!” Noctis coughs, looking Prompto firmly at shoulder height and above, silently ashamed at having been caught with such lewdly wandering eyes.

“Whaddaya mean?!” Prompto asks, Noctis allowing his anxiety at the impending topic to set him on yet another slow, nervous pace around what space of the patio is free.

“Come on, Prom, don’t be dumb…” Noctis groans, swinging his arms about before he folds them tightly against his chest.

“You know! Like – _please a wife_?!” he hisses, though his eyes instantly glaze over with a moody darkness at Prompto’s brief, high pitched bark.

“I – I’m not laughing at you, I swear!” Prompto adds, his interjection meant in earnest; the implication that his best friend and love of his life, the King of Lucis, is to be a virgin until his wedding night, is so absurd he cannot think of a more suitable reaction.

“So, uh – does – does that mean you’re, _you know_ …” Prompto nervously dances around the word specifically, Noctis shooting the blonde a vulnerable, yet no less threatening, look. “…A virgin?” Prompto finishes, the quickly spoken words the cherry garnish upon his sundae of verbal hesitation.

“You’re one too, remember?!” Noctis instantly accuses, though he raises his eyebrows at his friend, as he too hisses and joins the king in his absent minded pacing. “…right?” Noctis adds, Prompto leaning his entire left side against the balcony ledge.

“Well…okay, so…” Prompto starts, averting Noctis’ gaze as his eyes glaze over with betrayal, jealousy, and hurt. “I mean, I – I was, when we graduated. It was – it was _once_ , in Lestallum –“

“Seriously, Prom?!” Noctis breathlessly whispers, folding his arms and awaiting further details.

“I mean, we were in the same class for a whole year, and like – it just kinda _happened_ …” Prompto finishes lamely. It had been two years ago that summer, on the last day of school. The small cohort of first year photography students had said their goodbyes to one another, though Prompto’s goodbye with another student in particular had proven to be much more passionate than the others.

“She was – she was an international student from Tenebrae…” he starts, remembering her white blonde hair and her Sylleblossom perfume, the way the scent lingered on him for days after their love making, even after multiple showers. “We’d done projects together all year, just me and her, and uh, I mean, we were _friends_ , but not really outside of class, but there was just, _I dunno_ , Noct, this weird _tension_ , and when we said goodbye, she just kissed me, and I couldn’t stop it, and _she_ couldn’t stop it –“ Prompto disjointedly attempts to explain, though it does not seem to ease the king’s irritation.

“Okay, I _get_ it,” Noctis snaps, waving a hand at his friend and peering moodily onto the city below. He could say with distinct honesty that he had never harbored any sexual thoughts or desires toward other men. While he had no issue in recognizing or acknowledging another man’s objectively good looks, he’d never had the desire to undo said handsome man’s abstinent resolve.

Even Prompto, whom the young man has loved for nearly three years, had only just recently registered himself as a sexual being in Noctis’ mind. His previous thoughts had never extended beyond kissing, though his dreams of late often included graphic images of a breathless, moaning Prompto underneath him, his exposed skin flushed from passionate contact with Noctis’ own naked body –

There was no way for Noctis to deny his best friend’s hotness. He can only be grateful his social awkwardness around others far outweighs his good looks, or else Prompto would have lost his virginity to someone long before he had. His freckled nose, cheeks, and shoulders were marks of cuteness Noctis had always adored, for his own skin is smooth and completely unblemished. His blue eyes, Noctis admires, are beautiful and captivating. His thin, muscular frame is fit and handsome, yet also teasingly lithe and, as per Noctis’ more stimulating wet dreams, easily overpowered. The dips of his tight clothes against his thighs, lower back, and ass awoke in Noctis feelings he had left unfulfilled as a preteen. His own inappropriate thoughts of Luna had ceased around fifteen, a brief respite from puberty’s damning, corruptive lens.

Noctis had already let go of the initial shock of having feelings for another man, his own naivety and curiosity still leaves him entirely clueless. The dreams themselves had consisted of passionate grinding and sweaty, wandering hands; Noctis, who finds embarrassing shame in his virginal status at twenty years old, had no true idea how two men engaged in sex.

Where he could certainly say he wished to have whatever _it_ was with Prompto (the constant rising in his slacks whenever Prompto moved too teasingly or whined too passionately speaks for itself), the black haired man had avoided researching the subject, paranoid that such inquiries would escape to the public (or worse yet, Ignis). How would the young king look before the world, betrothed to a princess, yet researching gay sex he wishes to passionately engage in with one of his own Glaives?

 _‘Maybe I should just tell him…’_ Noctis internally grumbles. Such thoughts do not manifest into reality.

Ten minutes of silence elapse between them, the smell of sulfur stinging their noises once more as the friends a few floors below light yet more sparklers and continue to throw their party with little awareness of other tenants.

“…It just kinda _happened_ , man…” Prompto desperately offers, shrugging in frustration at Noctis’ continued stiffness. “She ended up transferring to a school in Tenebrae anyway, so it wasn’t even a for real thing –“

“I know, Prom, it’s – it’s fine – “

“It’s not like you won’t have plenty of chances to lose _yours_ to the _Oracle_ – “

Noctis shivers at the thought of such private intimacy with Luna, of touching and caressing her in ways that would reintroduce her as more than just a friend and royal ally –

“But –“ Noctis croaks, his body tingling from his continued thoughts over the woman, thoughts he had not entertained in years.

“Especially ‘cause I had the biggest crush on her for forever and you _know_ that –“

“I _know,_ Prom –“ Noctis cuts him off, holding up his hands in resignation.

“So I mean – I may have lost mine before you, but like…I get to watch the man I love bang the woman I _could_ have loved, you know?”

“Oh man, don’t put it that way…” Noctis begs, grimacing. “I’m gonna try to avoid _that_ with her as much as possible…”

“Uh, well, she loves _you_ , Noct, and bein’ husband and wife and all, she’s gonna wanna try for uh… _heirs_ on at least a weekly basis!”

“Yeah, but like – “ Noctis stutters, Prompto exhaling, though lending a patient, listening ear. “I’ve never even _seen_ one – let alone like, _touched_ one, or – or anything…”

“And here I was assuming you were gettin’ it in without my awkwardness cock blocking you everywhere we went…”

Noctis smirks at his friends comment. While the two had often displayed themselves as complete dorks when in one another's company, his best friend's nerdy absence made it no easier for Noctis to bed a woman.

“I mean – women have _tried_ …” Noctis admits with wide eyes, the many balls and galas since his having graduated high school having introduced him to many women of all social standings and ages wishing to get to know the handsome king in waiting.

“See?! There you go! It’s not like you’re some unfuckable loser…” Prompto adds, Noctis slowly turning his head to observe the blonde, whose blue eyes glitter with the light of the skyscrapers surrounding them. “You’ll be _fine_ , dude! And I promise I won’t let my feelings get in the way of your relationship with Luna! If you ever need tips or wanna shoot the shit or – “

“I _really_ wanna fuck _you_ , Prompto!” Noctis blurts so suddenly and so loudly, he wonders if the sudden silence from the party below stems from his erotic declaration.

“Whoa, dude…” Prompto whispers, eyes wide, shoulders tense.

“You said we had to start being honest, that we had to start talking about things like this, so there you go!” Noctis knows he is in too deep to retract his statement. The air is suddenly stiff, humid and oppressive. Everything is too quiet, even where cars below honk, loud music plays, and the cheers from the patio below resume, clearly not so invested in the conversation between Glaive and king that they end their celebration. He is acutely aware of every thought and movement he makes, and he watches Prompto as he shakes slightly, licking his trembling lips.

He’d done that since high school, the lip licking. Noctis knew it to mean Prompto was nervous, or trapped in a figurative corner, overwhelmed with either his thoughts or the situation. He’d watched the way the saliva would chap his lips as it dried, the way his tongue would peek through his white teeth, the habit an attempt to calm his nerves.

“I can’t even begin to think about marriage or a wife, because all I can think about is _you_! It’s been this way for months!” Noctis growls, Prompto blinking as the black haired man approaches him.

“That, uh – that is a _lot_ of honesty, and it’s definitely honesty that complicates things!”  Prompto lightheartedly responds.

His other coping mechanism was to crack jokes.

“You’re licking your lips,” Noctis accuses, the adrenaline of his admission veiling his words with a certain aggression. “You do that when you’re nervous, Prom, you always have…”

“I uh –“ Prompto raises his eyebrows and smiles.

“You said to be honest, you said we had to talk – “

“I know, Noct, I just uh – _wasn’t expecting_ that kind of a bombshell…” Prompto chuckles before exhaling, brow furrowed.

“I mean, if you don’t see me that way –“ a sense of humility returns to the king, who reads Prompto’s stiffness for a lack of interest.

“It’s not that – I bet a bunch of people in the whole kingdom of Lucis see you that way…”

“But I’m not interested in _them_ …” Noctis folds his arms, eyeing Prompto as he shivers against the patio wall.

“W-well, o-okay, but – but I – _Luna_ –“

“What about her?”

“I’d feel awful knowing – knowing I was like – like _that_ – with h-her husband –“ Prompto stammers, Noctis closing his eyes and shaking his head to orient his rapidly racing thoughts; Prompto had only expressed guilt, not a lack of desire himself…

“I’m not her husband, we have five days to work it all out, remember?” Noctis suggests, a deep, teasing playfulness in his voice. Where he’d once reserved the tone for convincing Prompto to cut class, or grab another milkshake, or stay out another hour beyond curfew, Prompto would have never thought to think he would use that very same timbre to lure him into his bed…

“Do – do you even know how two men – you know…”

Prompto, Noctis notes, is entirely flustered. He cradles himself in his own arms, his gaze angled at a damp corner of the patio in which the concrete of the ground and the wall conjoin, moist with humid night air.

“Well, uh…” Noctis starts, scratching his chin.

_No._

“I figured you’d know, what with you being the _sex haver_ and all…” Noctis smirks, Prompto rolling his eyes and groaning.

“I mean – not – not with _dudes_! And even if we did, we shouldn’t anyway!”

“You say should, Prom, but what about what you _want_?”

“Noct…” Prompto whines, his eye lids fluttering in tune with his uneven, shuddering breath he exhales through his nose.

“Look, uh – doin’ – doin’ this with you has been on my mind for months now, and like, if you don’t want to, or if you don’t see me that way, that’s fine –“

“No, I – _I do_ –“ Prompto’s bright red face corroborates his statement. He runs a hand through his sweaty hair, careful not to linger too long on Noctis, lest his gaze be interpreted for invitational. The two allow a moderate amount of distance between themselves, Noctis stiff and straight backed, where Prompto fidgets and bites his lip. “It’s just – I dunno, I go from not talking to you in two years to talking about – about – _yeah_ , that…”

“Well, my cards are on the table at this point, I love you and I wanna fuck you,” Noctis crudely states, Prompto laughing disbelievingly from his corner. “Whatever that means, I uh – I gotta see how we’d even go about it…” Noctis adds, mumbling into his chest.

“ _Gods_ , Noct, that’s uh – that’s a handful…” Prompto sighs, using his hands to grip onto the ledge behind him, holding himself steady. “A-and uh, yeah – a uh, figuring out what we’d even do would uh, would be helpful –“

“So then, you see me that way too?” Noctis wonders, Prompto closing his eyes in thought before opening them again.

“I – I mean – yeah, dude, of course I – of course I do…” Prompto clears his throat, Noctis stepping closer to him. “We’ve been trying to do the right thing since high school, Prom…” Noctis attempts to justify his lascivious, carnal desires, knowing full well that such sneaking around as the newly crowned King is a delicately unwise thing indeed. “And, look, we went into this conversation knowing that we only have so much time, right? When I get married to Luna, the same way you wanna be a good friend and Glaive, I’ll be a good King and husband, I promise! But I also wanna be a good friend to you,”

“Noct…” Prompto groans, for he knows that both of their internal desires will win out in the end. Yet by expressing his half-hearted resistance, his conscience cannot accuse him of not trying to resist the man he loves before him.

“And the same way you say you can’t be a good friend or Glaive to me and Luna until we work things out, I wanna be able to be a good friend and king to you and Luna, and uh, you know – I don’t wanna spend the next thirty years looking at you that way…” Noctis rationalizes, his eyes wavering hungrily over Prompto’s love mark that bruises only deeper in the crook of his neck.

“If we get it out of our systems, then we can move on, for real this time…” Prompto hears the words he speaks, but he cannot say he believes them; he merely offers them as a disclaimer to The Six, to Luna, to the Lucian Kings, to _himself_ , his own internal monologue chiding him for such unroyal thoughts.

“How about – how about in three days, we – we do it…?” Noctis suggests, Prompto chewing on his bottom lip before nodding nervously.

“It’s b-better for us goin’ forward…we get it outta our systems, and focus on what it is we gotta do for Lucis…”

“Yeah,” Noctis nods, hands in his pockets. “I just don’t, uh – you know – don’t wanna ruin our friendship…”

Prompto utters a single, disbelievingly laugh; between the underlying baggage to unpack from his two year absence, their wildly complicated and unresolved feelings, and their desire to have _sex_ with one another, the already somewhat suggestive friendship the two boys harbored in high school is forever a different phase and time.

“And it won’t, okay?! But, uh…we should probably get some sleep, gotta – gotta be up early tomorrow!” Prompto squeaks, nearly tripping over the raised metal track in which the glass door slides.

“Yeah…” Noctis nods, somewhat stunned when Prompto breaks their trance with a friendly slap against Noctis’ lower back.

“Can’t believe my boy Noct’s got his first day tomorrow as King!” Prompto exclaims from genuine disbelief, but also in a blunt attempt to change the subject, so that he may not be kept awake by thoughts of Noctis.

“You should uh – you should probably spend the night here – easier for Cor to pick us both up and all…”

“Sure, Noct…” Prompto’s hollow words concede once more, knowing as well as the young man he follows back into the apartment that timeliness has nothing to do with why the two choose to share a bed with one another after two years.

“How uh – how’s your tongue, by the way?” Prompto attempts to keep the conversation away from other such things, but as soon as Noctis twists the blinds of all the exposed windows, he finds him engaged in yet another deep kiss with him.

“I mean, I’ll live…” Noctis mumbles in between kisses, Prompto exhaling as Noctis’ tongue slips into his mouth, lapping against his own. Prompto notices such, as brushing against the slightly raised sore does not startle his friend. “I’ve dealt with worse.”


	2. Uniforms

Prompto’s face is illuminated by the powder blue light of his lock screen, the shadows of his tired frown projecting against Noctis’ back behind him. It is the fourth time in two minutes he checks his phone, a nervous habit that Prompto only just barely registers under the looming haunt of exhaustion. Whiffs of barbecue and burning wood from the party below seep in through the walls, burning his eyes and nose. It continues with ferocity, seemingly endless. Prompto licks his lips before expelling a single, weighted sigh from between them, chapped from the dry, unmoving air in Noctis’ bedroom.

The soft rustle of moving cotton is oddly loud in the silence of the bedroom. Prompto presses his ear into the cool case of the pillow, the threads of fabric a makeshift, sound proof wall. He slowly opens his eyes once more, vision blurred from tears of tiredness. The active movement from the blonde solicits an aggressive breath of air to unfurl through Noctis’ nostrils.

 _‘Guess he’s still up, too…’_ Prompto’s own internal monologue echoes against the figurative walls of his dreamy, lucid mind.

Despite Noctis’ own desire for rest, he lies on his side, unable to find comfort in any position he adopts. He frowns at the faint outline of his own figure’s reflection in the immaculate glass of the floor length window. He finds that confirmation of himself, the man with fears and desires and concerns, makes him less open to self-reflection. He unfocuses his lidded eyes just enough to visually hone in on the school of sky scrapers that make up Downtown Insomnia. He gazes silently at the asymmetrical, metal and glass monoliths, whose heights nearly impale the stars.

 _‘Maybe the stars are just marks from where the spires of the buildings pierce holes into the sky…’_ Noctis muses in a fit of existential, sleep-induced delirium. His nonsensical and pathetic tries at astronomical thought, however, are a welcomed distraction from the mood swings that hold Noctis’ rest at bay. The elation of Prompto by his side soon gives way to the anger and confusion he’d entertained extensively in their two years apart. Much like a young child spoiled entirely too rotten, his petty, negative thoughts stomp their proverbial feet, demanding his undeserved attention.

He had not shared a bed with Prompto since the night before he left.

Noctis had missed the comfort and warmth of his best friend beside him, barring even the romantic implications of such intimacy; the simplicity and ease of their boundless, platonic brotherhood had been the very reason why Noctis had grown to find more than fraternity in the blonde, after all. Yet now that comfort returns, so seamless and unapologetic for its absence.

 _‘You can’t hold it against him forever…’_ the even rationale of his monologue chastises the black haired man who lies awake, brows furrowed and eyes focused now, on nothing. _‘You can’t tell him you wanna fuck him and kick him outta bed in the same night, he’ll think you’re crazy…’_ it continues, and Noctis scoffs, snatching the cotton of the blanket and swiping it across his frame moodily; the action is stilted, for Prompto’s weight pins a corner of said blanket to the mattress.

 _‘It’s my bed, and my feelings, I can do whatever the hell I want…’_ he mentally argues back against his conscience. If only Lucians knew their king was ornery enough to argue with his own sanity, even where it means forgoing sleep.

“Hey, Noct…?”

Prompto’s voice softly draws a tie between Noctis’ internal anguish and his desire for peace and quiet. Prompto, even in high school, had always been the one to revive the conversation even after a half hour of quiet snores and sleep talk.

“Uh… yeah?” Noctis’s voice is even, but a bit labored by silent irritation. Prompto frowns, their backs still toward the other, though not touching. A whole half a foot of space separates them in fact; Prompto because of the heat of the night, Noctis because the heat of the blonde next to him, which in turn inspires in Noctis’ abdomen a heat of his own…

Prompto, for all of his social anxiety and awkwardness, does not misinterpret the terseness in Noctis’ voice. He folds his lips firmly together, rolling them under his teeth.

“So, uh…as your Glaive and all…” Prompto starts, clearing his throat of its gravelly, weary coat. “Is it really true that I can summon fire and ice? And lightning?”

Noctis scrunches up his features at the question; did Prompto really mean to discuss tactics at nearly four thirty in the morning?

“What, dude?” Noctis repeats, sitting up and rubbing his forehead. His skin is sweaty and sticky, the young man having opted for a long sleeve shirt and pajama pants to avoid the accidental brush of Prompto’s skin. He blinks twice from surprise, for Prompto sits up too, his silence in the action almost assassin like.

The blonde, in contrast to Noctis and his existential apprehension, wears a sky blue tank top, with matching shorts, both loose and wavy. His skin looks pallid and cool, his small freckles in this moment the only chaotic reminder that he has any warmth to him at all. Where Noctis sweats the toxins of stress from his body, Prompto freezes them until they are numb and unfeeling.

The fairness suits the blonde, his skin glowing with a tinge of brightness that illuminates his blue eyes, awake and wide. Noctis’ grey ones are half closed, clouded over with exhaustion.

“Seriously, I dunno what it is you’re trying to say…” Noctis grunts, Prompto raising his eyebrows and cocking his head to face his friend.

“I’m just asking if it’s true that being bound to your bloodline means I can use your magic!” Prompto’s voice rings with an edge of excitement that Noctis cannot find himself able to reciprocate. Noctis casts him a side-eyed look, his black hair tossed about by his constant shifting to find a comfortable position.

“I mean – _yeah_ …” Noctis snaps before lying back down, turning his back to Prompto once more. The blonde is left with a crestfallen expression, and a tug of embarrassment in the pit of his stomach. He keeps his gaze silently fixed on his friend’s back, nervously licking his lips as per Noctis’ earlier observation.

“Sorry I asked, I guess?” Prompto underhandedly snaps. In a fit of sleep-deprived madness, Noctis nearly swears his reflection in the window gains autonomy, glaring at him for such unnecessary rudeness toward Prompto.

 _‘It’s not his fault you’re mad at yourself for your feelings…’_ the angel of his morals whispers in Noctis’ head. Noctis rolls his eyes.

“…I harvest magic from the earth and put it in vials. You and Iggy and Gladio can use the magic, just not _make or harvest_ it…” Noctis begrudgingly explains. Prompto offers a soft _“Hmm,”_ in response to the explanation, the young king tensing his shoulders against his neck as he grips his pillow tightly, back still turned toward his friend.

“Why?” Noctis finishes, albeit with curiosity of his own on the edge of his voice.

“Uhh, well…” Prompto starts, hints of his gentle breathing escaping through his slightly parted lips. “I just thought, ‘cause like, tomorrow, everything really starts, you know? We’re going on a diplomatic, week-long trip to Altissa, a-and it’s _my_ job to keep you safe!” Prompto stumbles over his words, bringing a hand to rub his forehead in frustration from his lack of articulation.

“I know I can be a bit of a jokester, and I don’t really bring anything to the table – “

“Don’t say that, Prompto,” Noctis scornfully replies, rolling over and glaring at the blonde, shaking his head.

“You _know_ what I mean, Noct,” Prompto folds his arms. “It’s the real deal, until either the world ends, or your reign does, and I don’t have anywhere near the training you guys do – “

“Look, you spent _what_ , like two months training with Cor? And a whole year with Gladio?!” Noctis throws his hands up in resignation, his patience with the blonde and his self-deprecation growing very thin. “Do we _really_ have to have this conversation when we have to be up in three hours?! I’ve got my first day as _King of Lucis_ tomorrow, Prompto, if you don’t think you’re good enough to be a Glaive, then you shouldn’t have accepted the offer,” Noctis snaps, Prompto shrugging his shoulders. He swings the blankets swiftly off his person, his bare feet hitting the sleek, hard wood floor with a moody thump.

“Yeah, you’re right, I’ll just get out of your hair, then,” Prompto struggles to keep the tears in his eyes from commandeering the stillness of his voice. Noctis remains silent as the blonde grabs his cellphone; the hour is much too late to leave the apartment and disturb his parents, and Ignis either attempts to catch what little sleep he can, or is kept awake by assuredly uninterruptable obligations or stressers.

Prompto nods at Noctis’ lack of argument, the other man sitting up rigidly. He grabs a pillow and his cellphone before walking out of the bedroom, closing the door behind him without another word.

Noctis instantly groans, slamming back down against the bed.

“Great…” he grunts to the ceiling, the back of his hand draped over his closed eyes. While his disdain over having such an involved conversation at an early hour was genuine, he did not mean to end the conversation in such a way that he drove Prompto out of the room completely. Or maybe he _did_ , his fiery, self-indulgent sense of hurt argues.

“Argghh…” Noctis growls, gripping his hands in his hair, his wits at their very end.

 _‘You’re a fucking idiot, dude…’_ his brain reminds him, Noctis hand sliding torturously down his clammy face. _‘You wanted Prompto back for years, and he’s here, and look at what you’re doing…’_

 _‘He left me,’_ his selfishness spits, Noctis’ eyes lowered as he considers how affronted he feels.

 _‘He left everyone, and now he’s back, and your Glaive, ready and willing to stay with you until the very end…’_ his unconditional love for his best friend replies, Noctis throwing his head back and rolling his eyes.

 _‘I can’t just forget how him being gone made me feel…’_ his selfishness offers as a convincing rebuttal.

 _‘Doesn’t mean you have to take it out on him…’_ his love being a decent lawyer of its own. _‘He’s not answering phones at the Citadel. His day tomorrow is just as new and terrifying as yours. He’s your Crownsguard, your Kingsglaive, give his fear some credit…’_

Noctis rubs his eyes.

 _‘Plus the pressure of being in bed with him –‘_ his sense of self-doubt chimes in, Noctis immediately shaking his head, heart racing as his third emotion joins his mental dialogue. For someone who needed a Kingdom and two years between them in order to contain his feelings, Noctis cannot help but notice that Prompto finds his emotions and desires much easier to control.

It all comes to a head so quickly; even if one of The Six themselves came before Noctis twenty for hours ago to inform him that Prompto would return to Lucis as his Glaive, he would have voluntarily committed either the Astral or himself to a mental hospital. In less than twelve hours, Prompto knew of all of Noctis’ desires, thoughts, and wishes.

_‘Funny, considering he’s the motor mouth, and I could go the whole rest of my life without talking if I could…’_

But Noctis sighs deflatedly, registering that nothing about it is very funny at all.

_‘You have to stop lashing out at him…it was hard enough to lose him once. Don’t even think about how life would be if you lost him again…’_

“I know…” Noctis huffs aloud, closing his eyes and breathing a suffocating gasp of woody, smoky air before opening his eyes and bringing his own feet to the floor. He only realizes the party on the balcony had finally stopped, Insomnia finally coming down from the high that is his very own coronation. A very, very faint tinge of pink lines the very edge of the horizon, almost as if it were a cosmic mistake.

But what if Noctis were to lose Prompto, not due to arguments, or to feelings, but to the line of duty? What if Prompto’s role as his Glaive ultimately costs him his life?

The thought leads Noctis to sheepishly understand the blonde’s apprehension regarding his personal training; his concerns were _far_ from unreasonable. Noctis, having been trained in all arts of weaponry since birth, wrestles too with the fear that his lack of confidence would cause the downfall of his kingdom: such nightmares had plagued the young man since childhood. More concerning to him is the fear that a single mistake would cost the lives of Ignis or Gladio, that a single missed warp strike or slash of his sword would lead to him cradling the one he loves in his arms…

Noctis closes his eyes in resignation, stomping angrily, but lightly, to a metal chest that he throws open. He gently picks up a vial, whose glass is browned and opaque by age. He hisses slightly at the shocking warmth, the murky flame inside dancing slowly, dousing Noctis’ face in the light of orange rhythm. He closes the chest before opening his bedroom door, vial and hands in his sweat pant pockets as he approaches the couch.

“…Hey…” Noctis quietly whispers, lowering himself to his knees to meet Prompto’s gaze, who lies across the leather couch. He is asleep, Noctis notices with slight surprise, curled up, though obviously cold, for he does not have a blanket. Noctis closes his eyes and sighs once more before standing up straight, grabbing a throw Ignis had left folded in a laundry basket in the kitchen. He drapes the crocheted blanket across his friend’s body, using a hand to push him awake gently.

Noctis can only offer him a small smile as he wakes up under Noctis’ insistence.

“Sorry, Prom…” Noctis whispers, the blonde grunting softly as he stretches out his legs, cracking his knees. Prompto shrugs without offering any other response, settling his head back into the pillow before closing his eyes once more.

“Come on, dude, I’m _apologizing_ here!” Noctis hisses sheepishly through his teeth, thankful that the blonde opens his eyes once more. “I – I shouldn’t have said what I said, and I-I didn’t mean it that way, either – “

Prompto ignores him, Noctis aware that he is awake.

“Well, sorry – guess I’m just glad you went to the couch…”

“It’s too early in the morning to go to my parents…” Prompto mumbles into the leather, Noctis raising his head hopefully, draping his arms against the cushions to support his upper body.

“Well, if I’d had to walk over there to get you, I would have…” he assures the blonde softly, running a hand through his hair and sighing before apologizing outright.

“I know that this isn’t just my day tomorrow, Prom, I get that it’s yours too…” he clears his throat. He makes a point to meet the eyes that Prompto allows him to capture glances of, for the blond blinks too sleepily and quickly to hold them in an entire gaze.

“I’ve had this in my legacy since _birth_ , and well…” Noctis trails off, Prompto supporting his head with the palm of his hand. “You’re coming here from _art school_ to basically be one of my generals,” Noctis can’t help but smile at the infectious one Prompto gives him, despite his attempt to not give in so easily. “It’s understandable that you’re not totally confident for the first day on _that_ job,”

“I just don’t want this to be a mistake, Noctis…” Prompto mumbles, Noctis shaking his head quickly before continuing.

“It’s not a mistake, Prompto…” Noctis situates himself on the sofa at the end of Prompto’s feet, and he is grateful his slender, unclothed legs are hidden by the white yarn of the throw.

“I guess just, what if I fuck up big time out there, and the rest of the world is like, who let _that_ idiot into Noct’s Crownsguard?!”

“I think they’ll be paying _way_ more attention to _my_ fuck ups than yours, Prompto…” Noctis can’t help but lightheartedly, though very much humorlessly, chuckle.

“I get that this is huge for you, Noct! You’re a king, you’re getting married, your dad is signing that peace treaty tomorrow – me starting a pity party at 4 am before the rest of your _whole life_ probably got under your skin a little bit…” Prompto self-consciously sighs, Noctis throwing an arm around his shoulder, for the blonde now sits up too, knees drawn to his chest. “I know we’ve still got a lot to work out about me and Lestallum, and that’ll probably take some time…”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t give me the right to lash out at you,” Noct nods, looking up at the ceiling and closing his eyes. “You’ve done so much for me, Prom, you _got_ me to this point!”

Prompto blows a raspberry before turning red, a soft _“nahh”_ escaping his lips.

“You really _did_ , Prompto, and me bein’ a dick when you need me isn’t really a good way of showing you that I appreciate you,” Noctis scratches behind his neck. “Look, the worst thing that could happen is I lose you again…” Noctis whispers, his voice deep and low as he pulls Prompto closer against him. “I’m having a lot of trouble just – just _decompressing_ everything that’s _happening_ right now…”

 “You’ve got a long reign ahead of you, dude…” Prompto shakes his head, though he jumps and hisses as he leans against the unexpected heat in Noctis’ pocket.

“The hell?!” Prompto shrieks, eyes wide as he leans away from the black haired man.

“Oh – “ Noctis remembers, using the edge of the blanket to hold the vial he produces from his pocket. “So, uh – I thought I’d answer your question, Prom…” Noctis shamefully admits, Prompto nodding, though distracted by the lightly burned hand he shakes in an attempt to ease the pain.

“So there’re some places outside Insomnia where I can sense elemental magic…”

“You know, I used to be _so_ jealous of you being a prince as a kid…” Prompto laughs, resting his head on Noctis’ shoulder once he determines he shouldn’t be burned once more. “But you gotta go through so much weird stuff like being able to _sense magic_ , does it hurt or anything?!”

“…No…” Noctis shakes his head, rolling the vial in his hands, still with the assistance of the blanket. The glow warms their faces, Prompto never more intrigued by fire in his life – it dances and burns brighter than a regular fire, as if its chemical makeup had been mystically altered by some otherworldly element. “I just stand where I feel it, and I harvest it, into one of these…”

“And how do I use it? In like, battle and stuff?” Prompto wonders incredulously, Noctis shaking his head quickly. “Hopefully we shouldn’t _need_ to, they’re dangerous to use in war, so Iggy said he wants to be in charge of casting,”

“Is it ‘cause he thinks you’d burn us and not the enemy?” Prompto pipes up, Noctis rolling his eyes at the thought of the bespectacled man’s understandable lack of confidence in him.

“Pff – _duh_ , of course that’s why,” Noctis grins, placing the wrapped vial into Prompto’s nervously trembling hands.

“What happens if you uncork the bo –“ Prompto starts, wide eyed, Noctis’ own eyes growing just as large as he snatches the bottle from Prompto’s hands.

“We die a painful, fiery death – seriously Prom, you gotta be a careful genius to use these – one time when I was nine, I got into my dad’s stash and opened an ice vial – his whole study was covered in three feet of snow, and there I was, just sittin’ in the middle of it like, _hey_!”

The two laugh, Prompto sad to see the mesmerizing flame go away, but also glad that such power of destruction disappears into Noctis’ pocket.

“Honestly, I’m surprised Iggy let you have any of those around here without supervision!”

“I was supposed to practice controlling it in small, delicate places, but uh…” Noctis raises his eyebrows, Prompto tisking and shaking his head. “I mean, you know who I am, so I don’t really gotta tell you what it was I _didn’t_ do all summer…” Noctis rolls his eyes, smiling slightly.

“Maybe we could get Iggy to practice using magic with us this week!” Prompto grins, though subconsciously aware the two have little time in their schedule for much else, other than their earlier agreed upon pact.

“He’d probably shit his pants if _we_ came to _him_ asking to learn stuff…” Noctis laughs, Prompto chuckling in agreement.

“I can’t even imagine Iggy taking a regular shit, now that you mention it,” Prompto grimaces, and Noctis bursts into laughter at his best friend’s comment.

“Dude, that’s probably his problem, he’s got twenty three years of _shit_ just _in there_!” Noctis adds, Prompto closing his eyes and holding a hand to his side, a black, sleek, heavily polished luger manifesting in his hand in a flash out light and crystal dust.

“Speaking of constipated Iggy wanting me to learn stuff, I’ve been practicing this all day…” Prompto explains, regarding the summoning of weapons, a gift granted only to the Line of Lucis and those who serve it.

“It’s insane being able to just do something like that after twenty years of _not_ being able to,” Prompto whispers, but Noctis finds the fine shimmer of crystal that garnishes Prompto like an ethereal sheen much more intriguing.

It is hardly a mystery why his emotions are so entirely unstable; how is he supposed to up and wed another and focus on his kingdom, when the entire world itself sits next to him in his very apartment? He is grateful that Prompto does not turn down the soft kiss he plants on his lips, brushing crystals out of his eyes, cheeks, and mouth with his thumb before proceeding.

“But whenever I do it, it just feels so natural…” Prompto whispers, attempting to stay focused on the incredulous phenomena of casually summoning weapons out of thin air.

He cannot stop his hands from running along Prompto’s bare arms as they trap one another in a slow, deep kiss, Prompto’s own hands running slowly over Noctis’ chest, albeit over his shirt.

He cannot believe he kisses his friend, his _king_ , even where their dozens of other such moment remain as proof. The two continue do to so, as if trying to convert the other as a non-believer, and Noctis only pulls apart and opens his eyes when the rising sun is slightly more noticeable, the creeping light of the sky bathing the living room in the grey blue of the subtle early morning.

“Two hours before Iggy picks us up, dude…” Prompto whispers, hands curled around Noctis’ neck as he leans in for another smacking kiss, one Noctis pulls him closer for. “And I don’t wanna have to hear it…”

“Yeah, not a fan of Bitchy Iggy,” Noctis agrees, though also content to cut their intimacy short before the hardness in his sweatpants garners his friend’s attention. Prompto rises from the couch and stretches, clapping Noctis’ cheek twice before wishing him a chipper _“Goodnight!”_ and heading back for the bedroom.

Noctis had always been eager to cultivate their shared laziness. Regardless, he cannot help but wonder if Prompto’s sudden retirement to bed had something to do with the slight limp in his own walk; a limp, Noctis considers with a nervous gulp, stemming from the blonde’s own secret arousal.

 _‘If only that treaty today brought actual ceasefire and peace of mind…’_ Noctis laments, the thought of the ceremony causing him to shudder; his father had explicitly instructed him not to let worries of the treaty or the ring cloud his focus on the trip to Altissa.

He is grateful for his father’s understanding, Noctis realizes as he stretches, his arousal leaving him with an awkward stomp toward the bedroom of his own. Life was hard enough as it was.

* * *

 

The pleasure of being able to say _‘I told you so’_ is a rare one for Ignis. Where the advisor had come to earn the respect of his peers, few had ever bothered to challenge or dispute any of his claims enough to leave him with the pleasure of uttering his favorite phrase. Cor Leonis, an older, wiser, and higher ranking man, would be the first victim of Ignis’ smug victory in a while.

 _“Last I heard, Argentum went to his parents’ house,”_ The Marshall had gruffly informed Ignis, who slipped in the passenger seat of the Regalia, Cor taking the wheel. _“Therefore I suggest we pick Prompto up first, then Noctis, looping back to the Citadel to collect Gladio and part ways with King Regis,”_

Ignis’ barking laughter was not an affront to the legacy of Cor’s military brilliance that preceded him. The older man’s glare at the bespectacled man beside him did much to display his distaste at the younger man’s laughter.

 _“I can promise you, Marshall, that Noctis did not take his leave from last night’s ball to catch an early night – that would have been much too responsible for him,”_ Ignis had begun, the laughter under his polite and reserved tone eliciting a stony frown from Cor. _“I can only promise you further that Prompto spent the night with Noctis at his apartment, therefore sparing us the trip to his parents. Trust me, please, dear Marshall – I’ve lost many a ten Lucian note to Gladio when betting on their interesting friendship, and my wisdom as a friend to them both leaves me very comfortable with putting money on Prompto being at Noct’s,”_

As much as Ignis admired Cor, he cannot say he finds himself entirely comfortable with the way the older man leaves Ignis the younger, boyish man of the two.

The two boys, dressed and eating cereal together on the couch, jumped at the sound of Ignis unlocking the apartment door, inviting himself in.

“You both ought to get changed,” Ignis folds his arms, raising an eyebrow at the sight of the two. Prompto dons the entirety of his Kingsglaive uniform, jacket included, Noctis in his raiment, down to the crown and cape. Silence floats between the two parties, the crudely drawn cartoon they watch upon the television peppering the quiet with fart noises and air horns.

“We are leaving the Kingdom, and I suggest wearing clothing as inconspicuous and travel ready as possible,” Ignis attempts to impart through his sigh, his eyes closed at the ridiculousness of two of his best friends. The two take a look at Ignis’s attire, the man simply dressed in the purple leopard print dress shirt and slacks from the day before. They nod to one another before scrambling for the bedroom, Ignis washing the bowls and grimacing at the now screaming cartoon characters as they come tumbling out excitedly from the room.

Noctis wears a black shirt imbued with dozens of small skulls that trickle down from the collar, loose black linen pants uncinched at his waist, black combat boots laced halfway up his ankle. Prompto, Ignis must admit, had styled himself a neat sense of fashion during his years in Lestallum. The homemade vest is adorned with gold studs and patches, a strip of flannel sewn to the bottom. His tight, leopard print pants hug him in a flattering way, his own combat boots matching his best friend’s in length.

“Right…” Ignis nods, taking the remote and turning off the television with pleasure. “We mustn’t keep either your father or Cor waiting, the Niffs are arriving this afternoon and he explicitly wants us gone before they arrive, so let’s get moving,” Ignis instructs, though the end of his sentence is drowned out by the sound of Noctis and Prompto fist pumping and cheering, as they clamor out of the apartment arm in arm, screaming about a road trip at the top of their lungs.

 _‘Best that we cannot be recognized,’_ Ignis muses, closing the apartment door behind him and watching as Prompto cart wheels all the way down the hall, Noctis warp striking to keep up. _‘God forbid if the world should see the new King in action.’_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, the boys say bye to Regis, get on the road, and talk about how weird everything is.


	3. Departure

“Well I’ll be damned…” Cor whispers to himself. He squints through the tinted windshield, the gold trimmed doors of the apartment complex parting to reveal the very scene Ignis had predicted. Slipping through the parted glass is Prompto, who spins around twice with excitement, his grin wild, vibrant and genuine. The nervous, reserved Prompto of twenty four hours ago is undetectable in the energetic man who spins his pistols before tucking them away. His features are alit with a jovial weightlessness that would imply to none the wiser that such eyes had never seen a sore sight. The young king must have kept Prompto rooted in happiness, Cor notes, his sole marigold in a never ending sea of parasitic weeds.

Noctis follows him seconds later, equally as energized; he jumps onto the blonde’s back, who buckles under the also smiling young man’s weight in surprise. Noctis’ lithe arms are wrapped intimately around Prompto’s neck, and for the slightest moment, Cor swears he sees the tips of their noses touch.

Ignis calmly ends the procession, hands in his trouser pockets, expression relaxed. The lenses of his glasses reflect the white hot brightness of the early sun, at which he briefly looks before spotting the Regalia parked a few feet away. Cor. blinded momentarily by the glare himself, raises a hand to shield his eyes. Ignis returns the gesture, having misread it for a greeting. For all of his militaristic aptitude, Cor mentally scoffs, the younger man could be awkward and stilted in his social interactions.

An almost impossibly soft chuckle escapes the Marshall’s lips as he smirks at the approaching entourage. _A King and his Glaives_ , allegedly, though Cor sees naught but the boyish coupling of the young prince and his uncouth best friend, his doting and pedantic tactician trailing airily behind their chaos. As motley as they are, they are the ones to whom he must be tediously loyal. He wastes no time in exiting the car to open the trunk and door for the King, placing the luggage into the spacious compartment. He closes it after carefully stashing away their belongings, the car dipping down toward the asphalt under the added weight.

Noctis and Prompto, whose arms swing about wildly as they play fight, are entirely too distracted to thank the Marshall. Where the black haired young man was usually good for extending stilted, but honestly meant manners, Prompto’s distraction robs him of his decency – even where a king is entitled to such services, Regis had raised Noctis to not anticipate them. Cor was no stranger to Noctis’ forgetful tendencies around his best friend; he’d caught them once with Hors d'oeuvres in their nostrils, middle fingers in the air. Ignis places a silent hand upon Cor in acknowledgement, the gesture gentle, yet firm against his shoulder bedecked in a flattering suit jacket; Ignis, reliable Ignis, was always the one with the presence of mind to be thankful.

 _‘There’ll be a long reign of service to Noctis to hear a thank you from his lips,’_ Cor muses as he assumes the driver’s seat once more. _‘The Six willing, anyway.’_

“Good morning, Your Majesty,” Cor calls into the rearview mirror, his smirk from before slacking into his standard, phlegmatic frown. Noctis, out of breath from following his friend, buckles himself in before going to respond, sweaty black hair thick in his eyes. “H-hey Cor – Dude, come on, Prom!” He breathlessly laughs as Prompto clamors in the back next to him, unceremoniously jostling their bodies against the doors.

“Hey,” Noctis casually, but still breathily reattempts to respond through his smile. Cor closes his eyes in resignation. The passenger door closes beside him as Ignis slides gracefully into his seat. Seconds pass before the older man slowly opens them again, eyebrows raised high against his evenly trimmed hairline. Ignis, the only man who rivaled Cor in his stoicism, wears only the slightest hint of a sly smile on his lips, just barely hidden in his eyes.

 _‘I told you so,’_ he wishes so dearly he could utter; he is so starved of the satisfaction.

“You are certain you have all of your belongings, Your Majesty?” Cor questions to Noctis, expertly soiling Ignis’ opportunity.

“Yeah,” Noctis nods. He’d endured enough of the awkward titles as a prince; the words themselves had always felt ill fitting, an itchy sweater many sizes too small, uncomfortable and oppressive against his skin. Cor drags an ungloved finger along the black of the steering wheel. The leather begins to heat under the rays of the rising sun. Little time remains for idling.

“So uh, where’re we headed first?” Noctis curiously pipes up, placing his elbows on the back of the front seats, peaking between them.

“To the Citadel, where we are to meet Gladio, and hear your father’s parting words before your departure and the official begin of the treaty ceremony,” Cor grunts. “You should know, as king and all,” Ignis scathingly adds with a raised eyebrow. “You cannot stay so juvenile forever, Noctis, your father is sending you on a smaller mission so that you may gain your bearings and sense of leadership. Do _not_ disappoint him,”

Noctis flushes at the harshness, falling back against the seat to avoid further scolding once it is clear Ignis is silent for the time being. Prompto, uncharacteristically quiet in his seat, stares blankly ahead; although he had subconsciously caught the tail end of Ignis’ teachable moment, his thoughts are mostly preoccupied by his own parents’ inability to see them off, their work schedules leaving little room for goodbyes.

“It’s okay, Prom, we’ll be back in like, twelvish days or so,” Noctis assures him, both from a genuine desire to comfort his friend, as well as solidify the change of subject. The car rolls forward as Cor begins the short drive to the Citadel, the engine smooth, the ride as comfortable as the Regalia typically offers.

“Yeah, you’re right…” Prompto nods, though settling naturally into his usual smile – what was a week and a half mission with the king, where two years of turmoil had once severed any connection he once held with those he loves the most?

“Come on…” Noctis mumbles, his lips spread as far as they allow in a toothy grin; Noctis’ ever fluctuating moods regarding his upcoming wedding, Prompto notes, appear to be on the upswing. His positive outlook is contagious, and Prompto smiles, his best friend punching him playfully on the arm. It does little to mourn goodbyes; he is simply left with twelve days to craft a jovial _hello_ to his parents instead.

He hadn’t spent an hour with his parents before tearing away with Noctis the previous night.

“I’ll uh, I’ll grill out or something with them when I get back!” Prompto cheerfully considers, Noctis blinking twice and smiling softly at the suggestion, relieved he erased his best friend’s frown as easily as it appeared.

“I must admit a grilling out sounds lovely, perhaps I can set aside some meats and marinades, should you and your family be open to guests,” Ignis, much to Prompto’s surprise, twists to offer, Prompto leaning forward and nodding once more.

“Dude, _totally_! I know mom and dad would wanna celebrate Noct and all, and they love you guys, of course you’d be invited…” Prompto slowly trails off, unable to add, _‘celebrate Noct’s coronation and wedding with Luna’_ to the end of his sentence, despite his earnest attempts to come to terms with the betrothal of the man he loves.

“And uh – L-Luna’s invited too…”  he whispers, though he cannot help but imagine that such a deliberate and calculated young woman would find backyard gatherings and messily sauced meat skewers too low brow a christening for a wedding.

“Come now, Prompto, it would be just as much a celebration of your return and earning the title of Kingsglaive!” Ignis pompously adds, as if Prompto’s achievements were marks of his own merit. Prompto grins; such a tone of voice could only mean Ignis was _proud_ of him.

The warmth of Ignis’ words of encouragement mingle with the electrifying softness of the kiss upon his cheek Noctis quickly steals when no one looks. He barely registers the gesture, Prompto’s eyes briefly fluttering shut as Noctis’ hand lingers on his own for a few seconds before gripping his phone. They flicker back open to Cor and Ignis up front, who mumble in husky, covert voices, the two boys in the back orally uninvited.

The already cramped, grid like streets of Insomnia are bedecked in honorary banners welcoming the Niflheim delegation. The stylized text of the Empire strikes an uneasiness in the blonde he cannot explain, even being as politically ignorant as he is. Crowds gather on every street corner, and traffic comes to a halt the closer Cor brings them to the Citadel. Noctis, now pensive himself, looks out the tinted window, hand supporting his head by his chin.

“You were specifically instructed by your father to not take any concern in the signing, Your Majesty,” Cor lectures from the driver’s seat, seeing through Noctis’ hesitance with ease. “Focus only on securing your successful matrimony to Lady Lunafreya, and for her subsequent move to the Crown City,” Ignis adds, Noctis’s grey eyes wavering between the two men, purposefully dulling the usual light within them so as to obscure his vulnerability.

_‘A King of your infancy would do best to worry about the issues on your plate. Talks of the ring and the wall can come later’_

Is all Noctis interprets from the Marshall’s order. Glaives of his father’s order make way through the crowd to allow a driving path for the Regalia. Large, metal gates swing open, and the car drives up the usual path, the sounds of jubilation left behind at the border of the Citadel’s entrance.

“The whole city’s excited about the ceremony, buddy!” Prompto tries to lightheartedly convey to the man next to him, Noctis smiling in return. The blonde’s earlier suspicions he shared with Cor on the journey back to Lucis had not subsided; he could not foresee the peace millions of Lucians confidently await. Where before Cor had led Prompto to assume he felt the same, the Marshall now maintains neutrality toward the negotiations; the wrinkles in his face are unexpressive and stony, refusing to betray the honesty of his real feelings.

Cor opens the door for Noctis, who steps out of the car with poise. He’d always been so lithe and gentle on his feet, Prompto quickly observes about his friend before instantly switching back to suspicions regarding Cor. Perhaps the Marshall saves his suspicions for another time, having been instructed by Regis to do the very same as Noctis. Prompto blushes slightly and offers Cor a soft _‘thank you’_ as the older man opens his door as well. It fascinates Prompto how differently he interacts with the very same world he’d always known after accepting such an honorable title. While he had never been neglected as the best friend, there is much to be said for the level to attention and care paid to him now as a member of the Kingsglaive.

Prompto shields the sun from his eyes with the back of his wrist; a flash of the diamond encrusted watch on Ignis’ own reads 9 am, the thin golden hands of the clock resting perfectly upon the nine and the twelve. They are in the circular courtyard, just before the steps of the Citadel’ entrance. The large, pointed black walls that enclose the courtyard reflect the whiteness of the morning sun, the way it sits cradled against the powder blue of the early summer sky. Prompto’s shoulders and cheeks are ghosted in dark brown patches of tan by the quickly rising heat.

“Stand at attention, Prompto, His Majesty will be out any second now,” Cor whispers into his ear, and Prompto shares a confused look with Noctis; he’d only just climbed out of the car seconds ago. Noctis raises his eyebrows and says nothing as Ignis briefly adjusts the young king’s collar before taking position himself.

They stand in a line composed of squared shoulders and rigid backs, arms clasped behind the smalls of their backs. Noctis, Prompto notes, seems the calmest; it is his father and his shield they await, after all. Cor, as expression and emotionless as he often is, still displays tension in his stoicism. Ignis, as cool and calculated as _he_ always his, wears his mental computations in the creases of his narrowing eyes, and the twitches in the corners of his mouth; only Noctis breathes evenly, Cor seemingly not breathing at all.

Prompto closes his eyes. He could not be any more grateful that the Chancellor of Niflheim has not yet arrived. This thought calms his erratic breaths.

“Your Majesty,” a familiar, deep voice booms, and Prompto opens his eyes to see Gladio at the top of the steps. He takes each one bluntly, two irregularly shaped objects wrapped in olive green vinyl slung over his shoulders. Noctis looks briefly at the ground before smiling as the shield approaches the four men.

“Don’t call me that, I know you too well…” Noctis mumbles, the two men grinning as Gladio extends a free hand and ruffles it through Noctis’ hair.

“Tell me about it, I know _you_ all too well to keep up the _Your Majesties_ for long myself,” Gladio snickers back, though only loud enough for Noctis to hear. “Iggy, Prompto, Cor,” Gladio adds, though louder. Cor pops the trunk of the Regalia, placing the cargo within the open space.

“What’s all that for?!” Noctis curiously peeks past his Shield’s massive frame. Gladio grunts and stretches, cracking his back from the lack of weight holding his muscles hostage. “What even is it?” Prompto wonders, not caring that his moving out of rank solicits a sharp tisk from Cor. He hoists the trunk open, eyes widening as he surveys the objects with scrutiny.

“It’s camping equipment!” Prompto calls back toward Noctis with excitement, who runs to Prompto’s side to join him in analyzing it all further. “Pots, pans, lawn chairs, a _table_ – what the hell, Gladio?!” Noctis wonders with tactless curiosity, the two young men wasting no time in taking the pans and various camping tools into their hands.

“Mouth, Your Highness…” Cor hisses, pinching the bridge of his nose in his fingers in irritation.

“Yeah, uh s-sorry – are we _moving_ or something?!” Noctis wonders, thoroughly inspecting a cast iron pan.

“More like you never know what sorts of situations we will encounter beyond the wall, and it’s always best to be prepared…” Gladio snatches an incredibly expensive set of grappling hooks from Prompto’s hands before placing them back into the trunk.

“Yeah, but I mean, it’s twelve days, not twelve _months_ ,” Noctis teases, hands placed sassily on his hips.

“Gladio’s got a point, Your Majesty, you should always over pack as the king, for both safety and security reasons,” Cor cuts in, using the wide palm of his hand to slam the trunk shut.

“Our travel to Altissa shall be limited to daylight hours, and there may be times in which we find ourselves having to stop miles away from any towns or outposts,” Ignis quips, the only man of the five still standing patiently at attention as he awaits Regis. “Be lucky that your lack of encounter with Daemons leaves you ignorant to such precautions,”

Prompto shudders at the mention of the horrible creatures, memories of their terror pertinently fresh, and only a few days removed.

“Yeah, they’re – they’re _awful_ …” Prompto softly adds to the conversation. He grows lightheaded at the remembrance of Daemon activity awareness campaigns the government of Lestallum purported in the forms of flyers and radio ads. He shakes his head at the thought of the way a traveler or family played the unfortunate role of the weekly victim in the newspapers. “I almost got – got k-killed by one myself, and there – there was a man and his wife caught out once, right – right at the bottom of my hill – “ Prompto chokes, averting the gazes of the others. He can feel their tension at his less than pleasant recollection. Gladio brings a soothing, though rough and weighty hand to clap twice on Prompto’s back, the blonde instantly comforted, though still slightly shaken.

“They’re no joke, man…”

“I guess I never really considered that before…” Noctis whispers, overcome with a sense of sudden shame that the King of Lucis could be so entirely short sighted. His own life had only just barely been spared by The Six as the result of a Daemon attack himself. Noctis brings an arm around Prompto’s shoulder, the blonde no longer shaking, but still bleached of all lively color, troubled still by his memories. Noctis is grateful for his sense of suppression, he internally notes, Prompto resting his head against his best friend’s shoulder.

“…well don’t worry, me and Luna will – will do _something_ …” Noctis vaguely, but earnestly promises. Cor raises his eyebrows, though nodding in agreement, Cor and Ignis and Gladio standing upright once more.

“All in due time, Your Majesty – do not lose sight of the task at hand, worry about your journey to Altissa for now,” Cor instructs, and Noctis instantly mourns the distance between Prompto and himself as they end their embrace, standing straight themselves.

Noctis’ heart beating in his throat works to replenish his missing warmth, the sight of his father as he stands upon the stairs igniting a nervous excitement within him. Cor leaves his ranks to dash quickly up the steps, for the King takes his ginger time descending them. Prompto, Ignis, and Gladio bow beside him, Noctis ignoring his father’s exhausted state by bowing his own head as well.

“Ah…” Regis breathes as he finally finds level ground, Cor relinquishing his grip on his bicep, standing dutifully by his side. “My son, and his three brothers he has gained along the way,” Regis proudly exclaims, placing his hands upon Noctis’ shoulders. Prompto does not miss the pride in Noctis’ own eyes, the blonde himself sheepish and red from being acknowledged so fondly by not the king, but the father of his best friend.

The four men each maintain eye contact with Regis, who dedicates a few individual seconds to study the unique faces of the three most trusted men in his son’s life. “Allow me please, to take on the burdens of this treaty, so that you ought to enjoy my son, the king’s, wedding in peace and elation,”

Prompto rebelliously steals a glance at Cor during Regis’ word, and traces of his earlier apprehension just barely leave hints of themselves in his dour frown.

“Won’t you be coming at all, dad?” Noctis frowns, unable to hide the disappointment in his voice.

“I’m afraid not, Noctis, the treaty will certainly keep me busy until my son returns a married king,” Regis attempts to salvage joy out of his own disappointment, his voice doing better to lift their spirits where his features are drooped in sadness of his own. Noctis’ head lowers at his father’s choice of words, grinning from embarrassment. He can feel the heat of Prompto’s gaze on his back, and only the audience stops him from rushing to Prompto and assuring him with a gentle kiss that the king’s affections lie elsewhere.

“When is Luna arriving?” Noctis asks hopefully.

“Much beyond your own leave. She will meet you in Altissa in a few days. I will extend to her a hello from you this afternoon,”

“Cool, thanks,” Noctis smiles, though he grows nervous at his father’s sudden serious stare.

“Let it be known, however, that this treaty may have unforeseeable consequences, and that your return trip may not be as smooth as your departure,” Regis cryptically warns, and Noctis turns around quickly as Cor half scoffs half sneers, lowering his folded arms and slowly sauntering away from the line.

“What – what do you mean, dad?!” Noctis asks in hastened worry, though Regis places a firm hand upon his shoulder.

“Do not fret. I merely mean to impart some Kingly wisdom onto the new hire, so to speak,” Regis morbidly chuckles, clearing his throat at the awkward silence. Noctis wishes that Ignis, Prompto, and Gladio behind him would drop their circumstantial pretenses and join in on their conversation; should his whole reign be peppered with stilted encounters, he just may not make it to a jubilee.

“Focus on honing your skills as a fighter and survivalist, on finding yourself, learning your kingdom and the world around you; I’m afraid I’ve failed you in that I have shown you too little of Eos, and a good king must know her well in order to rule the last free kingdom within her,”

“You never failed me, dad, come on – “

“But luckily you have four wonderful men on your side to see to your growth and safety, albeit Cor will be unable to join you for a few days,” Regis interrupts his son, his amber eyes boring meaningfully into Cor’s. “I will not hold up the procession much longer, I understand you are to get on the road, and I must go back to entertaining our lovely Niflheim delegation,” Regis sighs, missing Prompto’s shiver.

He is caught off guard as Noctis takes him into a tight, but brief hug, Regis reciprocating fondly.

“May the world out there be kind to you, Noctis, but a man my age knows better than to indulge such fantasies. Do not give up and always persevere. I cannot say what lies ahead for you, just that I implore that you always walk tall in the face of it,” he whispers, Noctis grinning back a few tears as he nods.

“I love you, my son, and I could not be any prouder,”

“I love you too, dad…” Noctis replies in the same hushed tone, Regis looking down toward the three men who await Noctis, Cor taking the steps to stand by Regis’ side once more.

“You all ought to get on the road, I suppose, you may want to beat the assured traffic the treaty’s begin is to cause! You all have my dearest wishes, my love, and my blessings! Save travels!” Regis booms, extending a hand before turning back to go into the Citadel, Cor loyal at his side as always.

* * *

 

“I still do not understand this, Your Majesty –“ Cor hisses, the two men hurriedly returning to the negotiation chamber where the Chancellor and Emperor await them.

“You suspect that Niflheim intends to use this as an opportunity to overthrow you –“

“I have since the very beginning, yes,” Regis tersely replies, face steeled as they walk down the hall.

“We both share this suspicion, even!”

“Indeed,” Regis replies in the same fashion.

“Yet you send away your son, the rightful king, his men, on a road trip -- !”

“And what else would you expect me to do, Leonis?! Leave them sitting in wait to be captured, ransomed, or assassinated?!” Regis stops, anger in his voice, though it is muted and hushed, so as to not share their conspiratory secrets with the entire Citadel itself.

“I am old, Leonis, old and already death means to collect me –“

“Your Majesty – “

“The ring’s magic will not see me make it to the end of the year. I care not for what Niflheim has planned for me, if by playing their game and offering myself I can buy time for Noctis, Gladio, Ignis, Prompto, and yourself, then I will go to my grave having made the right choice,”

“I have faith in your son, Your Majesty,” Cor grunts, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “I have faith in them all, but – “

“By meeting their demands, I lessen the risk of Niflheim aggression and total war, and therefore Lucian lives,”

“And what about Lady Lunafreya?”

“We have discussed our plans already. She is to take my ring to Noctis and relinquish it to him in two weeks’ time, in Altissa. I imagine she will be a target, thus we already have an escape plan worked out for her as well,”

“She is a brave woman, standing in the lion’s mouth like this,” Cor shakes his head. “I am amazed with the way you were able to send them off with no hesitance or second thought,”

“Because I am always one step ahead in the correct direction, Leonis – but do not think it does not hurt to send them all away – it will not be pretty,”

“Argentum suspects something – in terms of a Nifhleim ruse, as far as this peace treaty goes,”

“He’s not a dumb one,” Regis notes. “My son could not have befriended a better man. I spent so much of my time telling Noctis they would have to part ways, yet look who was made the fool…”

“You cannot blame yourself for not recognizing the strength in their silly, boyhood bond,”

“That is not the point of negligence, rather that I placed little trust in my son’s sense of character,”

“Did you not like Argentum?” Cor wonders softly, Regis shaking his head quickly as they approach an elevator which he calls with a press of the button.

“Of course I did! I simply missed to see how he would fit into all of this, that is until the Crystal haunted my nightmares until I got the picture…” Regis morbidly chuckles. “Though, do me a favor, Leonis,”

“Yes, Your Majesty?” Cor pipes with such loyalty that Regis is hit with a pang of guilt over the way he orders him so. “Please, when you see him, in a few days’ time…” Regis pauses, his hand gripping on the sleek, golden handle of the conference room door. “Tell him how proud of him I am.”

* * *

 

“I’m telling you, Ig! I packed us up like, three times this morning alone!” Prompto beams, his arms crossed over the back of the driver’s seat, which Noctis coolly occupies. His left arm rests against the door, right gripped upon the steering wheel. The wind whips his hair about his face, the roof of the Regalia all the lowered, the four men basking in the pleasant weather. Ignis, who had insisted upon taking the passenger seat, twists around to face the young man, Gladio engaged in a worn copy of _Pride and Prejudice_ , the edges of the vinyl cover peeling in thin strings of thread.

“You remembered to pack your Kingsglaive uniforms then, just in case?”

“Yup!” Prompto nods.

“Raincoats?”

“Uhuh – Noct let me borrow one of his, since I didn’t grab them from the house…”

“Decent walking shoes?” Ignis pointedly adds, Noctis filling in for Prompto with a deep _“Mhm,”._

“Sweaters for colder weather?” Gladio mockingly chimes in, though Ignis nods emphatically.

“Yes, good point – you never know how Altissa will fare, what with the city being on the sea…”

“Don’t worry, Iggy, we have everything!” Noctis handsomely grins, Prompto eyeing him with a longing smile of his own. “Prompto was up like an hour before I was getting everything together,”

“Yeah, Noct even messed up our luggage by just dumping extra stuff on top of all my neatly folded clothes!” Prompto complains, Ignis giving the king a wide eyed, disapproving stare.

“Sounds like Noctis, alright!” he sneers, Noctis wagging his eyebrows, eyes fixed on the bone straight road ahead, desert flocking them on either side. “Now you see why I’ve never let him do his own laundry…”

“Oh no, what a shame, I don’t have to do super boring chores…” Noctis rolls his eyes mockingly.

“I’m sure Luna’ll find it _really_ sexy the way her husband, the king, can’t successfully complete a wash cycle,” Gladio chuckles from the back, Prompto guffawing at the burn, despite the twinge of hurt that subtly lines his stomach at the implication of Noctis’ marriage.

“Well he’s got a lot more to learn than just how to sort his undergarments,”

“Can we _not_ talk about my underwear?” Noctis hisses after groaning from embarrassment.

“Only if you let me drive! It’s already been a half hour, man!” Prompto excitedly trumpets, standing up slightly in order to take a dramatic, but highly flattering picture of Ignis taking a sip of coffee from his thermos.

“For the love of _The Six_ , Prompto, if you don’t sit your _bloody arse_ down I _will_ throw you from the car myself!” Ignis roars, twitchily swatting at the excited Prompto, who silently complies, grinning at the series of photos he managed to capture.

“Barely twenty minutes out from the border of Insomnia and we’re already at risk of losin’ a Glaive – nice first day in office, Your Majesty,” Gladio smirks, though Noctis slows their speed as they approach a rest area on the right side of the highway.

“What is it you’re doing, Noctis?!” Ignis raises his eyebrows as Noctis pulls into the paved square of the small parking lot.

“Just wantin’ to stretch my legs a bit, you know?” he grins, the engine ceasing its soft, barely traceable rumble as he puts the Regalia in park.

“It’s been thirty minutes, Noctis! We’ll never make it to Altissa with such frequent stops, we have a stringent time table to adhere to –!” Ignis rants, brow furrowed, though his advice falls on deaf ears; Noctis and Prompto slam their respective doors shut, rushing toward the edge of the orange, rocky overlook the rest area services, Prompto’s camera in hand.

“You gave up control of the time table when you agreed to let Noct take the wheel,” Gladio informs Ignis through raised eyebrows. The brunette places a hand on Ignis’ shoulder before sauntering over toward the lone tree with leaves adorning its branches in the entire stretch of badlands. “You should know by now the kid can’t keep to a schedule to save his life. Might as well enjoy it, Iggy – there’s a nice view over there…”

Ignis sighs before finding the futility in his words, and the inevitability in Gladio’s own. He closes his eyes before breathing heavily through his nostrils; he’d been the ultimate fool, not leaving room in his meticulously drawn up schedule for distractions and hiccups.

He joins the other three men in exiting the car, albeit a full minute behind them, hands in his slack pockets. Gladio walks along the edge of the rickety, dark brown log fence that stops them all from plummeting to their certain deaths, his hair blowing in the wind that picks up in deafening waves. Prompto and Noctis stand huddled together a good twenty feet away, their upper bodies leaning against said fence as they whisper to one another, biceps touching.

“What do you suppose is the situation there?” Ignis softly asks Gladio as he approaches him, nicking his head toward the two men.

“Hmm…” Gladio places his hands on his hips, scrunching his features as he watches the two in deep thought. Ignis strips himself of his suit jacket, slinging it over his shoulder and folding his arms as he awaits his answer.

“I see two overwhelmed, fresh-faced nerds trying to deal with a million things at once – lots of unresolved feelings and emotions included…” Gladio nods toward them, Noctis posing against the banister as Prompto crouches backward, his flamboyant photographer pose allowing him to snap what is most likely an award worthy shot of the king.

“You don’t think – “

“ – Prompto is still in love with the kid?! Of course I do,” Gladio interrupts, scoffing at the implication of Ignis’ question before he can even pose it. “I used to think Prompto had a snowball’s chance in hell of Noct returning his feelings, until I saw how those two years apart really affected him. Who knows what kind of conversations those two have had, but I’d be willing to bet Noct’s got some complicated feelings of his own,” Gladio rationalizes, Noctis positioning himself in just the right angle to create a shadowy effect, enhancing the picture of a salamander Prompto takes.

“No, I am _not_ willing to bet,” Ignis rolls his eyes as Gladio chuckles, shoulders heaving with laughter as he tauntingly wiggles a five Lucian note. “Complicated feelings like that don’t go away overnight, Iggy,"

“I would just hate for their already complicated relationship to be muddled up by such feelings, especially considering the whole nature of this trip,”

“I think both of them know what awaits Noct at the end of this road trip. Shit, Prompto knew two _years_ ago. I’m not getting in the middle of it either way. As long as they stay focused on the goal ahead, how they work through their issues is their business. They deserve to resolve them in privacy. anyway,” Gladio nods, Ignis agreeing.

“But you don’t suppose it’ll be so bad, it’ll cause hang ups in our schedule?”

“Iggy, I’m gonna tell you now that even if the two weren’t so in love with one another, your schedule probably won’t last the night, so you better just rip it up and embrace what’s comin’, alright?” Gladio firmly, but gently suggests. He is grateful that his best friend, as characteristically responsible as he is, had the forethought to arrange a timeline for their travels. Regardless, he does not think he can stand a two week long trip spanning thousands of miles in the back of a convertible with the advisor if he should prove disgruntled every time an unexpected bathroom break pops up.

“Did you show Noct your schedule before we left?”

“Gladio you _know_ I did, and you _know_ he didn’t take a look at it,” Ignis scoffs, the two men taking in the beautiful sight of the dried valley nearly a third of a mile below. His eyes scan over the dusty land populated with twilight orange hoodoos, the parched stone whipped by wind in into irregular, earthy stumps. Beige sand bedecks the world, and thin sheets of stratus clouds streak the sky in erratic strokes. Various pachyderms roam the lands below in herds, and Ignis cannot help but enjoy the view. He cannot think of the last time he had ever left Insomnia.

“Well, between bein’ crowned and Prompto comin’ back, I think it’s easy to say there’s no way our distracted king would have had your schedule on his mind…”

“I suppose you’re right…” Ignis concedes.

“Don’t get me wrong, Specs. You’re the only one of the four of us even capable of having that kind of discipline and presence of mind, and we _need_ it, we _need_ you, but the last thing I wanna see is you ripping your hair out because things don’t go according to plan, alright?” Gladio claps his shoulder twice, Ignis pressing his glasses closer to his face before nodding.

“Come on, look what I brought along,” Gladio grins, revealing a freshly sealed pack of cigarettes from his breast pocket. “I figured we could end each night with a smoke, like in high school,”

“I’ll most likely need the whole thing by the end of the afternoon,” Ignis cannot help but smile himself, the two men slowly making their way back to the car. “I just worry; I want to see Noct be as successful a king as possible,”

“We all do, Iggy. You don’t shoulder that burden alone, alright? Me and Prompto show it in different ways –“

“Yes indeed,” Ignis hisses, jerking his head toward the two once more; Prompto sits atop the flat surface of a picnic table with Noctis by his side, the two laughing softly at one another, their noses nearly touching.

“Hey, you two! We’re getting back on the road!” Gladio booms, smiling at Ignis. “We can go over your schedule at dinner with them, alright? And until then, I’ll be the time keeper,” Gladio slides into the back seat as Prompto and Noctis scramble and push one another in a race to the driver’s seat, Noctis beating the once phenomenal track runner in his own domain.

“No fair!” Prompto whines, swinging his arms and pouting as he gets into the passenger seat next to Noctis.

“Is too fair,” Noctis purrs, sticking his tongue out at his friend.

“Is not! You _totally_ got a head start on me!”

“You weren’t on the line we agreed on though,”

“I’m serious dude, _I_ get to drive next time we pull over, ‘til the end of the night!”

“Okay, but there won’t be a next time _‘til the end of the night_ , so tough shit for you, Prom – !”

“They’re not gonna stop, are they?” Ignis mumbles, Gladio shaking his head no and handing the tactician a thick, dusty book with such force that Ignis utters a soft _“oof”_ as it slaps his chest: _War and Peace_.

* * *

 

It had taken nearly fifteen minutes for their bickering to cease, Noctis having grown strangely quiet after Prompto’s suggestion that they play a best of three round of King’s Knight that evening to determine the next driver.

“Hey, uh it was – it was just a _joke_ , Noct…” Prompto whispers softly at the young man who massages his forehead, eyes closed shut for alarmingly long handfuls of seconds.

“Noct – ?”

“I’m alright,” Noctis snaps, shaking his head and gripping the steering wheel tightly with both hands, knuckles white.

“You – you sure? You haven’t had any water today, it’s hot, and you’re not – you’re not looking good, Noct!” Prompto’s voice escalates with worry, Gladio’s brow furrowing as he catches the tail end of the sentence.

“What’s up, blondie?!” Gladio gruffly asks, leaning in between the two front seats and looking at them both sternly. Ignis had not made it ten pages before falling asleep nearly forty five minutes ago, the man only having gotten two hours of sleep the night before.

“Nothing’s up, I’m _fine_!” Noctis repeats, hissing aggressively not from irritation, but from the splitting pain that drills into the back of his head, his vision splitting into dozens of blurry directions –

 _“Fuck, Noct!”_ Prompto screams as a wave of excruciating pain erupts behind Noctis’ eyes, engulfing him in debilitating agony. He screams and clutches his skull, letting go of the steering wheel. He misses the chaos of Prompto’s worried screams and his attempts to reorient the steering wheel. He barely registers the screeching sound of the car as Prompto attempts to swerve out of the way of the telephone pole for which they hone in on. There is no doubt the pain of his headache leaves him oblivious to Ignis and Gladio’s mortified growls at the collision they cannot prevent. The whole world is engulfed in black as Noctis falls prey to the first of his mysterious headaches in months, the unintelligible sound of an angry voice of the sky drowning out the screams of his friends just before it all draws to a close.

* * *

 

_“Noct – Noct!”_

The young man hears the voice of his best friend calling his name, his eyes rolling behind their lids, drained of the energy to open them. He cannot say how many times the blonde had chanted his name in an attempt to revive him, merely that that particular set had been the charm. The sun above takes its unkind throne upon the top of the sky, glaring down upon the world below with its incendiary gaze.

Noctis shudders in raspy, weak gasps as his breath finally finds the strength to breach his lips, his blue eyes slowly parting to observe Prompto, who cradles his head in his lap. He wishes to say thank you to his best friend, who wipes the layer of chilling sweat that coats Noctis’ body with the back of his hand, but the acrid smell of the black smoke that raises from the carburetor robs him of the fresh air to speak.

“Gladio! He’s – he’s awake –“ Prompto stutters, hands wrapped around Noctis snaking tighter as the broad man rushes toward them quickly, Ignis on the phone a few feet away, pacing in lazy circles along the side of the road.

Prompto helps sit Noctis up, his arms still supporting his weakened frame, the young man sputtering as he catches even breaths in between the task of regaining his other senses. He is covered in dust and dirt, the other four much the same.

“Noct, you alright?!” Gladio gruffly questions, instantly holding out a water bottle that Prompto takes on his behalf, the both mens’ heads angled down to observe Noctis as he slowly comes to.

“I mean – I dunno – “ he groans, grateful that when he blinks, traces of the headache are gone.

“Was that another headache?” Gladio seriously interrogates, Noctis slowly nodding his head, though he stays wrapped in Prompto’s arms, even where he need not to further.

“I – I think so…” he whispers, rubbing his head as his sensitive eyes adjust to the light of noon.

“What headaches?” Prompto nervously wonders; he had no recollection of Noctis having chronic, life threatening head conditions before he left for Lestallum.

“Did you hear the voice again?” Gladio questions in the same tone, too focused on Noctis to entertain Prompto’s curiosity. Noctis nods, shivers of comfort running down his body as Prompto runs a soothing hand through his hair, the other still propping Noctis up against Prompto’s frame.

“Iggy! He’s up!” Gladio calls, but Ignis holds up a hand in irritation, still talking passionately to the other end of the phone, his pace still slow and absent minded.

“I guess it’s been so long since I’ve had them, I’ve forgotten what they feel like…” Noctis tries to joke, taking the water gently out of Prompto’s hands. “What happened?!”

“You were driving, we – we were talking, then you go weird – you – you started rubbing your head, and moaning, you were _really_ in pain, and then you blacked out, and you – you lost control of the car and – “ Prompto whispers, Noctis writhing somewhat as Gladio, the survivalist, checks his vital signs.

“Fuck, Prom, I’m so sorry,” Noctis whispers before swearing under his breath, his body still too weak to support a fit at full volume. “Are you hurt?! Are any of you hurt?!”

“Not badly, but I think Prom’s gonna have a sore neck with the way he had to stretch himself to stop the car from flipping over,” Gladio explains, placing the back of a warm, thick hand against Noctis’ forehead.

“You’re clammy –“

“Better than dead…” he scoffs, though he cannot help but feel a slight sense of shame when Prompto’s short lived smile falters back into the worried frown he wears. “I’m – I’m glad you’re all alright –“

“We’re fine, but uh, the car –“

“What about it?!” Noctis growls, his energy returning to him little by little.

“It’s completely shot,” Gladio spares no feelings.

“Shit,” Noctis swears again.

“Iggy’s on the phone with your dad now – “ Prompto hesitantly explains, wiping yet more sweat from Noctis’ brow

 _“Gimmie a break!”_ Noctis moans, leaning back into Prompto’s arms; it was the only course of action to make the scenario worse bar the injuries of his friends: Ignis on the phone with Regis in the middle of the signing ceremony to inform him that the car was crashed, and Noctis had already fallen ill a mere three hours into their trip outside of the border.

“Noct, come on, it could have been _way_ worse, it _should_ have been, and Iggy’s on the phone now coming up with solutions,” Prompto calmingly assures him, looking up as Gladio rises, walking to meet Ignis who slowly approaches them, phone clenched in his hand by his thighs.

“What’s up?”

“There’s nothing His Majesty can do, as I suspected,” Ignis calmly reports.

“I guess it makes sense that a super tense negotiation ceremony would have his undivided attention,”

“He says that he suggests we call Cindy for a tow, that based on our location, we shouldn’t be too far away from her grandfather’s garage,”

“Good thinkin’, Regis,” Gladio nods, Prompto silently glancing back and forth between them both, hand still trailing through Noctis’ hair.

“I put the service call in already, they’re on their way,” Ignis explains with continued calmness, Noctis regrettably leaving the comfortable embrace of his friend and sitting himself straight up, still slightly lightheaded.

“Ignis, I’m – I’m _sorry_ –“

“It was a headache again, was it not, Your Highness?” Ignis wonders, Noctis swallowing before nodding.

“But I really _am_ sorry –“

“Sorry doesn’t change anything, kiddo,” Gladio claps Noctis supportively, Ignis shaking his head.

“Sorries and regrets and _what ifs_ can come later – I am merely grateful we’re all alright, and that it _was_ just another of those headaches and not something new,” Ignis explains. “Right now we need to get off the side of the road and back to Cid’s garage, where we can gain some bearings and find somewhere to rest whilst waiting on the repairs,”

“It’s gonna cost a lot of money, isn’t it…?” Noctis whispers, Prompto still silent, simply watching.

“It’s money the crown _has_ , Noctis – “ Gladio chuckles, but Noctis shakes his head, instantly moaning with regret at the action.

“But it’s my first day, and I’m already dockin’ who _knows_ how much from my budget…”

“All details we can regulate later, Noct, I am afraid you’ll have to wait for the waves of the adrenaline of survival to wear off before I can scold you properly,” he dryly jokes. “Everyone seemingly alright for now?”

They all nod, muscles sore from the impact, but no lasting damage.

“Prompto?” Ignis checks up on the silent blonde, who gingerly nods, attempting to help Noctis to his feet.

“You two stay on the ground, we’ll keep watch for traffic and for the tow truck,” Gladio commands, and Noctis needs no excuse to fall back into Prompto’s arms, closing his eyes; judging by the way Prompto’s arms wrap around him, Noctis registers, the blonde, too, needed no special reasons of his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So one of my favorite things about the game is how Regis stayed one step ahead of the niffs by arranging for Noct and co to be out of Insomnia during the invasion. He knew the peace treaty was a sham and wanted to make sure his son was safe and able to come back to reclaim his throne. I kept that element in the story because it was one of the few very well done parts of the game's narrative I really enjoyed.
> 
> I brought back Noctis' headaches from towards the end of Etiquette. Just like in game, they're caused by Titan, 'cause Titan ain't dumb and he knows what's about to happen. Gladnis know that the two boys are probably sorting out some feelings and they're just sort of leaving them to it. They're both proud of the maturity they're trying to show by pressing forward and keeping the feelings on the backburner. Little do they know though that Promptis have plans to bang in like two days, lmao.
> 
> Hopefully everyone is enjoying this little continuation of the story.


	4. Credit Cards

“Oo, _lordy_ , look at the state of y’all…” a soft voice coos, causing Noctis to open his eyes for the first time in nearly forty minutes. The rumbling of a truck’s engine nearly drowns out her gentle words, the diesel of the exhaust clogging his throat and nose. Prompto strokes a final lap through Noctis’ hair. He blinks rapidly as the same hand claps his cheek, and the warm weight of support that is his best friend’s frame rushes over toward the voice that disturbs his peace. Cindy sighs, placing her hands on the hips of her tight overalls. “So where’s the poor baby at?”

“His Highness or the _Regalia_?” Ignis wonders, raising an eyebrow at Cindy’s back, for the woman pleasantly squeals as Prompto picks her up, spinning her around thrice in an excited hug. “ _Prompto_! By Bahamut’s _wings_ , if it ain’t been too long since I’ve seen ya last!” she blushes and grins as Prompto places her on the ground.

“Yeah, no kidding! I just got back into town last night,” Prompto attempts to keep his frame and voice steady, though the shaking of both give away his obvious crush on the beautiful mechanic.

“Well if that don’t mean that sunshine hasn’t finally returned to Insomnia, then I don’t know when it will!” she giggles back, hand covering her dazzling teeth. Noctis, now sitting up upon the dusty earth, shoots them both a testy glare, his arms resting on top of his knees.

“’S wrong with you?!” Gladio wonders as he hoists himself off the ground.

“ _Headache_ …” Noctis shortly hisses, glaring at Prompto and Cindy as another one of the blonde’s flirtatious comments garners another girlish giggle from his charmed audience.

“Right…” Gladio raises his eyebrows. “Our angel’s arrived, boys,” Gladio continues, walking over to the pair and taking Cindy into a firm, friendly hug. Noctis scoffs and rolls his eyes, though not before standing upright himself, swaying from slight lightheadedness.

“Indeed, we have much to thank you for, Cindy,” Ignis presses his glasses against his face, subtly nervous. The two’s previous romantic stint is clearly fresh in the older man’s mind.

“Oh, not at all, Iggy-pie, I’m just a girl doin’ her job,” she flashes him a smile, the brightness of which shines through her black, greasy face. “Speakin’ of, I think I see ‘er…” Cindy frowns, nodding toward the black mass of smoking metal, whose engine folds like an accordion against the now askew telephone pole.

“What in the world did you do, Highness?” Cindy turns to look at the man who slowly saunters to her side, staring at the ground and kicking his feet.

“Blacked out, I – I guess…” he mumbles. Cindy tisks, not taking her eyes off the car. “I get bad headaches sometimes, and I – I was driving…”

“Well you’re darn lucky none of _you_ boys look like your lady, Your Majesty,” she laughs, placing a caring hand on Noctis’ shoulder, squeezing it supportively. “I’m just glad you’re alright, so don’t worry your little face; we’ll make sure we get you back up and runnin’ in no time…”

“Right…” he moodily responds.

“Can you believe Noct totally argued with me about driving before we crashed?!” Prompto jokes, Cindy leaning into the arm he drapes around her shoulder as they walk toward the car.

“Well, Your Highness, looks like your boy’s gonna have to be your chauffeur until your headaches sort themselves out! We’re booked pretty full lately, so we can’t make this a weekly thing!” She shouts from a few feet ahead, throwing a look over Prompto’s forearm back toward the king. Noctis breathes heavily though his nose. His cheeks flush from embarrassment, and he stomps his way over to Gladio, who leans against the garage’s yellow tow truck.

“Looks like you’re not the _only_ one smitten by Prompto’s charm…” Gladio nudges Noctis in the ribs.

“ _Fuck off_ …” Noctis spits, pushing the arm away and propelling himself dramatically off the car.

“Please leave the antagonizing for another time, this is _serious_ , and His Majesty ought not strain or stress himself out –“ Ignis strides over, but Noctis balls his fists before glaring at the two men before him.

“I’m not _strained or stressed out_!” he growls, the lie the most blatant one ever told through his teeth. The three of them shoot a glance over to the two as Cindy cheers and claps, for Prompto attaches the tow truck’s heavy hook under the demolished grill of the Regalia, saving her much extensive physical labor. “Alright, boys! Let’s get back to Paw-Paw’s shop! Ain’t nothin’ we can do about your girl out in the middle of nowhere!” Cindy waves them over before hopping into the driver’s seat, Prompto in toe in the passenger.

“You’d think she’d be immune to how much of a _nerd_ he is, since he’s been trying to get into her pants since _high school_ …” Noctis rolls his eyes.

Ignis lingers behind slightly to share a raised set of eyebrows with Gladio, who folds his arms and grins at Noctis’ back as he gingerly climbs into the back seat.

“Sure is King Pot calling the kettle black, eh?” Gladio mutters into Ignis’ ear, who places his hand upon his mouth as he sputters a sudden, booming laugh as Gladio’s words finally register. Noctis, who rests his head against the dusty truck window, glares at the two men, Ignis doubled over in contained laughter. The two assuredly share a joke at his expense.

“You got enough room back there, Highness?” Cindy’s blonde curls bob as she whips her head around to ask the question. Noctis goes to nod, but Ignis and Gladio sliding in next to him leave him smushed against the door.

“Never better…” Noctis lies, his hands scrambling against the worn, bumpy brown seats for a seat belt – only to see the truck has none.

“Y’all better strap in and watch yer heads, our cars outside of the Crown City ain’t half as fancy as yours,” Cindy explains, and right away Noctis can sense the discrepancy. He jumps at the deafeningly loud sound of the ignition as it kicks up, the smell of diesel clogging his nose. His nose wrinkles even further at the pungent air, worn, salty leather and axel grease choking him. The manual hand crank for the window is broken, and it is only seconds before their collective body heat mingles with the natural humidity of summer and threatens to asphyxiate them all. Ignis, whose side is blessed with a functional crank, cracks the old, spotted window just a hair’s width. The little gusts of air provide little relief. They’re left deafened by the piercing wind as they drive by, thus rolling the window up once more.

“Sorry, I know the ride ain’t fit for a King and his Men…”

“Well, we _coulda_ been ridin’ in style, but…” Prompto grins, Cindy giggling, and, much to Noctis’ horror, throwing the blonde a lascivious smirk in return when he turns to glance out his window as well.

Noctis kicks the back of Prompto’s seat, but the thickness of the smelly chair absorbs the shock, only working to cause his foot to twinge with pain.

“ _Chill_ , Noct,” Ignis mouths, fanning himself, and Gladio shoots him a quiet warning with his eyebrows. The young man is left absolutely fuming. Prompto’s muttered flirtation elicits yet another laughing fit from Cindy, and Noctis groans audibly, moodily slamming himself against the window. He scowls in silence the entire thirty minute ride to Hammerhead Garage.

“…and then Cor Leonis _totally_ slashed the Naga in half, and that’s when I came in, and jabbed my dagger right through the heart of a Ronin!” Noctis only half tunes in to the end of Prompto’s embellishment of his encounter with Daemons a few months ago.

Noctis shakes his head in disgust; the Prompto on his couch the night before had been terrified and shaking at the retelling of his near death experience, the young man having been too crippled to defend himself from the Naga properly.

“Well if only His Majesty hadn’t snagged you up first, I’d ask you to stick around and help Dave and Paw-Paw fight some of the stragglers that find their way out here at night!” Cindy woefully wishes, Noctis instantly furrowing his brow, glaring into the back of the blonde woman’s head in anger. It takes all his self-discipline – as well as another eyebrow warning from Gladio – to not embarrass Prompto and tell Cindy the truth about her _Daemon Vanquisher_.

“Maybe when we bring Luna back to the Citadel, I can do a tour of service keepin’ Cindy’s garage safe from Daemons?” Prompto leans back in his seat to grin upside down cheesily at Noctis, his blonde locks fluttering about his dirt and freckle-spotted face. He gets the hint, however, for his smile quickly fades, and he turns his attention back to the window.

Ignis and Gladio sway violently back and forth as Cindy turns into the pothole-laden stretch of drive of Hammerhead. Noctis stumbles turbulently out of his stupor, the lack of seatbelts sending him rocking against the bodies of the other two Glaives.

He cannot clamor out of the hellish vehicle any faster than he does.

“Hey, _watch it_!” Gladio warns as Noctis slams the truck door so harshly, he dents it slightly.

Ignis stretches silently, cracking his lower back, and his eyes widen as Cindy plants a kiss on Prompto’s cheek; Noctis thankfully has his back turned to the four of them.

“Wherever are you going, Your Highness?” Ignis pipes, and Noctis swings around, his body limp with displeasure at being addressed. His head lulls against his shoulder, as if looking at them causes him unimaginable agony.

“We have to discuss pricing and logistics with Cindy!”

“Don’t worry ‘bout that, Iggy Pie, His Majesty’s been through enough of an ordeal already, as have y’all. We won’t be done for at least a few hours, so we can sort all that out in a lil’ bit, alright?”

“So I’m gonna go get some fucking _food and water_ , okay?! Or do I need to stick around longer to wait and see if Prompto _scores_?!” Noctis snaps before stalking into the pit stop, making distinctly sure to exclude Prompto’s frame from his vision.

“Go, go, go, Noct, we could all do without your attitude for a moment,” Ignis side eyes the king, who raises his arms in moody irritation before entering the restaurant.

“Shiva’s _Tits_ , no one else in a good enough mood just bein’ _alive_ after a crash like that?!” Gladio scoffs, Ignis rolling his eyes and sighing before he heads toward Cindy to talk shop, the woman lidding her eyes at the approaching advisor.

“Food actually kinda _does_ sound good at the moment…” Prompto stretches too, Cindy nodding and smiling.

“I’m sure all you boys’re hungry after a rompin’ in your girl like _that_ ,” she winks, Prompto turning bright red at the implication.

“Yeah, I think some fries sound good!” he squeaks, nodding furiously and fidgeting about.

“Have you even got the cash?!” Ignis calls, Prompto turning around to jog backwards toward the building. “Yeah, I still have some Gil bills from Lestallum! Plus Noct’s got the credit card –“ he gives them a thumbs up.

“Danger, proceed with _caution_ , blondie!” Gladio nicks his head toward the restaurant, imitating Noctis’ slouch before bringing a finger to slice at his throat.

“Pshh – I was just ribbing him, he’ll be _fine_ , right?!” Prompto nervously chuckles, Gladio raising an eyebrow and placing his hands on his hips.

“Did the crash erase your memory or somethin’? This is _Noct_ we’re talkin’ about, he’s gonna be in a shit mood all _week_ because of your lame jokes to Cindy,”

“They weren’t lame!” Prompto quickly defends himself before he steps into the restaurant. Although the young man had only returned to Insomnia for a few days, it had been enough time to forget just how rugged life beyond the Crown’s City wall could be. The humid pit stop is un-air conditioned, the technology and energy needed for such a luxury not one a decrepit, desert ghost-town could afford to sustain.

The surfaces are sanitary, but mucked in layers of caked on grease. The glass windows are intermittently plagued with gross specks of dust and dirt. Prompto swears he can taste the lard in the air of each breath he takes into his lungs. Multiple fryers bubble in a deafening hiss, their collective heat leaving the diner absolutely sweltering. A bald, middle-aged black man in a grease-streaked red apron props open the door with a wooden wedge. Prompto, who had spent two years in Lestallum, had long grown used to seeing people of different skin colors. He spots the prince, who sits alone in a hard, plastic booth, staring at a plate of fries, hands clasped on the table.

He looks up at the blur of black and blonde as Prompto chaotically slides into the seat across from him, his scowl no less prominent upon his face than it was before. Prompto grins, reaching out a hand to push Noctis’ arm; the king retracts it in response, grimacing and folding his arms tightly across his chest.

“…mind if I steal one?” Prompto beams, snagging a long, sallow fry off the plate, wiggling in between the tips of his fingers. The playful nature of his question is unsuccessful in its begging for their shared silence to cease. Prompto deflatedly sighs, expelling a loud breath through his nose and frowning. His shoulders slump. He watches as Noctis could kill the fries at which he stares with his glare alone. Perhaps he had marginally overdone the flirting jabs.

Prompto’s features slack into a face of neutrality, silently stealing another fry, to which Noctis does not object. He merely continues staring at his plate. Prompto across from him only causes the fury in his stomach to boil and bubble, and for all that he focuses on a drop of condensation rolling down his frosted plastic cup, the fury threatens to froth at the surface of his lips.

“You sounded like a fuckin’ idiot,” Noctis rolls his eyes to glare at Prompto, who coolly shrugs, but turns red from embarrassment nonetheless.

“Cindy didn’t think so,” he mumbles in return. He crams a handful of Noctis’ fries into his mouth.

“Cindy also banged Ignis while you were a fifteen year old _virgin_ banging your pillow –“ Noctis snaps back, Takka back behind the counter, dropping another set of fries. The bubbling grease muffles their conversation.

“You practiced on a watermelon –!” Prompto instantly fires back, his voice cracking, eyes wide.

“Plus your dick is probably too small for her,” Noctis mutters.

“Yeah, well it’s too big for _you_ ,” Prompto retorts back, sinking into his bucket seat. The implication of Prompto’s manhood leaves Noctis infuriated, jealous, and _warm_. Rather than speak or think on his desire to discover just how big he really is, Noctis snatches the basket of fries back, acknowledging the good comeback with a moody silence.

“For real though, you sounded like an absolute dickhead…” Noctis repeats, snatching a fry from Prompto’s hand and chewing it dramatically.

“Yeah, to _you_ , but not to _her_ , she doesn’t know I’m a loser…” Prompto leans back against his seat. He gazes out the window at the blonde woman, who stands with her arms crossed, nodding at Ignis’ animated monologue.

“ _Wouldn’t be long until she found out_ ,” Noctis mumbles darkly, Prompto leaning forward.

“Uh, what was that, _Your Majesty_?!” Prompto sarcastically snaps, but Noctis saying nothing in return only causes Prompto to huff aggressively, trying to find the words to continue.

“Look it – it’s – it’s _payback_ for not letting me drive earlier –“

“I black out and almost get us all _killed_ and _that’s_ what you care about?!” Noctis narrows his eyes in disbelief, his voice straining from the same emotion.

“And like, _look_ , it’s a good thing, okay?! I need to get _over_ you, Noct. You’re getting fucking married, dude! Remember? That’s the whole _point_ of this trip?”

“Yeah but – “ Noctis cuts himself short, rolling his eyes and slamming his back against the seat in frustration.

“But _what_ , Noct?!” Prompto insists, but the black haired man waves his hand and mumbles under his breath.

“No, say it!” Prompto demands again. Noctis scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“We – we have two days left –” Noctis shortly stumbles.

“What do you mean?!”

“Of the _agreement_?!” Noctis mumbles, scanning around the restaurant and lowering his voice.

“Look I _know_ that, but…” Prompto moans, frowning as his shoulders sag. “It’s not even like you’ve even been treating me like a boyfriend _anyway_ …” Prompto whispers, but Noctis clenches his fists and leans forward, brows furrowed.

“What does _that_ mean?!”

“It means like – _I_ dunno, Noct!” Prompto aggravatedly sighs, snatching the other man’s water and taking a loud sip of it through the straw.

“Plus I was obviously in a pretty fucked up place, and you don’t even seem worried?!” Noctis instantly starts back up, Prompto shaking his head.

“I sat on the side of the road in the dirt and held you for like an _hour_ before Cindy got there?! My whole back and ass are _killing_ me from sitting on the ground with you, dude!”

“Look, just – I _know_ that I’m getting married and stuff, alright?! But we had a deal, and we still have two days, and – I just _really_ wanna spend them with you, I guess – “

“You are spending them with me?” Prompto raises an eyebrow, looking at Noctis skeptically.

“ _No_ , like – “

Noctis cuts himself off and folds his arms.

“Dude, _Noct_ , I...” Prompto mumbles, Noctis holding his cheek in his hand, propped up moodily by his elbow. To say that he wanted to spend his last two days of their agreement with Noctis as his boyfriend would be so gross of an understatement that the Astrals themselves would lose their patience. The stress and close proximity with the other two they share leave them with other plans, however. But Noctis, whose narrowed grey eyes are fiery and enticing, whose skin is marred with cuts and bruises from the crash that are kissable and inviting, whose lithe frame is clearly sore, and is in need of a bath and massage…

Prompto chokes at his thoughts, growing lightheaded. His flirtations with Cindy are genuine – there is no doubt that his long lived crush for the woman blazes on – but they are only dwarfed by how intensely attracted to his best friend the blonde has only been for years.

“…Did you mean what you said about you know, doing a tour out here?” Noctis softly questions after a few minutes of silence. Prompto clears both his throat and his mind, shaking his head and exhaling a shuddering sigh.

“I mean, not _really_ …but…” he sighs again before continuing. “I’m sure you and Luna are gonna need some time to get used to being married to each other –“

Takka takes a cardboard box of potatoes toward the back. Noctis uses their seclusion to his advantage and leans over, bringing him into a salty kiss that cuts Prompto’s hesitant stuttering short. Their lips smack as Prompto digs his hands into Noctis’ dark hair. They both feel morsels of salt from the fries cut grooves into their joined lips. Their cuts from earlier sting under the salt’s influence, and their ketchup tongues and lips are swollen and electrified.

“They could walk in at any time, Noct –“ Prompto whispers through soft gasps, the other man stopping himself from leaning in into another kiss.

“I’m just sayin’, Luna’s not here yet, so make your passes at Cindy some other time…” Noctis snaps, but the loud sound of dress shoes upon linoleum flooring captures both of their attention spans. Ignis, fists at his waist, comes storming in, a solemn fire in his eyes causing them both to straighten up and look up at him in concern.

“Noct, by the girth of Ifrit’s swinging _cock_ , where the _bloody hell_ did you put the Gil credit card?!” his voice wavers, shoulders heaving with his heavy breath.

“Uh – um…” Noctis immediately turns a ghost white as he scrambles for his wallet. The scrambling slowly ceases, however, as he replays the events of the morning in his mind. The two had been getting ready for their departure. Prompto had been in the shower, leaving Noctis time to rush to his wallet on his bedside table and sheepishly tuck the small foil of a condom into their folds. He had dumped its contents out upon the table, reorganizing it in an attempt to hide the small package behind cards and ids. He placed his twenty Lucian note back into the first slot, followed by the black of the Lucian credit card, the Gil one, however, the plastic blue and orange of the Bank of Accordo, appears clearer and clearer in his conscience, resting innocently next to the lamp upon his bedside…

Prompto lights up with shock as Noctis sinks into his seat.

“Fuck.”

“YOUR FIRST BLOODY DAY AS KING –“ Ignis roars, throwing his hands up and shouting from overwhelming tension and emotion.

“Iggy…” Noctis croaks, the crown of his head barely visible, he sinks so low.

“ _YOU WRECK THE CAR_ – “

“Ig…”

“ _LOSE THE CREDIT CARD_ –“

“Ig…” Noctis parrots again, and Prompto joins him under the table, despite sharing no blame in the misdeed.

“BY THE GODS, _YOU BLOODY FUCKIN’ IDIOT_ , I OUGHT TO INCITE THE REVOLUTION TO OVERTHROW YOU MYSELF –!“

Prompto cannot help but burst into a fit of laughter, his reaction to his own overflowing sense of emotion to laugh it all away, versus scream like Ignis, and sulk like Noctis.

“I WILL HAVE YOU DRAWN AND QUARTERED _TOO_ , PROMPTO ARGENTUM! IT IS NOT FUNNY –“

“NO, NO IT’S NOT!” Prompto shouts back through his laughter, Noctis’ hands gripped tightly in his hair, his elbows propping him up against the table.

“NONE OF THIS IS! WE’RE ALL A HOT FUCKING MESS, AND WE’RE THE KING OF LUCIS AND HIS MOST TRUSTED GLAIVES, AND I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT TO DO –“ Prompto slides out of the booth, and all Ignis can do is shake his head in disbelief, his mouth agape.

“You understand that I _knew_ you would find a way to muck it up –“

“Iggy…” Noctis pleads.

“And that this repair and our hotel for the night at Galdin Quay are both going to cost what Gil cash I thought to take out just in case the card got lost or stolen, or more likely, _forgotten_!?”

“I’m sorry, Ignis –“

“That means after tonight, we shall have zilch – “

“Ig – “

“Nichts – “

“Ig – “

“Nada –“

“Dude…” Prompto grins in slack-jawed disbelief.

“Nichevo –“ Ignis cycles through yet more languages, Gladio’s entrance into the restaurant and approach stopping the man in his rant.

“We all good, Iggy?” he casually asks, unscrewing a bottle of water he clutches and taking a swig.

 _“No,”_ Ignis snaps in return, a white gloved hand palming his entire forehead. He snatches his glasses from his nose, wiping them irritably against the corner of his shirt.

“’Sup?” Gladio wonders, though their shared silence as he glances between their despondent frames leaves him little room for speculation. “Did he lose or leave the card?”

“Yes.” Ignis mumbles into his hand.

“Which one was it, Chocoboass or _Dumbass_?!” Gladio calmly questions.

“HEY!” Noctis and Prompto shout in unison, though glance guiltily at Ignis before one another.

“How are you not more panicked, Gladio?!” Ignis snaps, Gladio, screwing the top back on his water and releasing a sharp _“ah”_ before continuing.

“Freakin’ out doesn’t change anything, Iggy,” he explains, frowning and glancing between them all once more. “We pay Cindy for the repairs –“

“Right…” Ignis sighs, placing his hands on his hips and throwing his head back, eyes closed.

“Then we hit the road for Galdin Quay, spend the night, get some dinner –“

“Yup…” Ignis concurs.

“Then we wake up tomorrow, get pricing for the ferry to Altissa, and figure out what sort of things we can do to make some cash to pay our way,”

“I heard Cindy telling her grandpa that hunters need help with bounties on some rogue beasts around here, and that they’ll offer cash rewards…” Prompto whispers, Ignis scoffing and pacing slowly back and forth.

“It’s good exercise, practice, and training…” Gladio tries to optimistically offer, but Ignis loses his will to respond, eyes closed, arms folded.

“Well, get your asses in the car then, it’s already almost evening and we gotta get there before the Daemons throw a party in the streets,” Gladio throws a stern thumb over his shoulder, and Prompto and Noctis slink nervously past Ignis, who glares at them both.

They look at their backs as the two leave, their bodies close as they whisper together in hushed shame.

“You gotta learn to roll with it, Iggy…” Gladio claps his shoulder twice before strolling out of the restaurant as well. Ignis closes his eyes before being the final one to slowly follow the other three, taking the schedule he had written on a piece of paper from his slack pocket, crumbling it, and tossing it into the garbage can by the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> theyre gonna bang next chapter okay


	5. After 200k Words They Finally Do It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The Six couldn’t have arranged a more awkward relationship, even if they tried right?” the memories of Noctis’ words tease him in his seclusion. But indeed they could, he realizes with a pang of awkwardness. He sighs as he turns back around to observe Prompto as he sleeps, rigid and awkward due to clenching pain he experiences from the waist down. 
> 
> ‘My duty and my happiness.’

“I’m sure you boys’re ready to get on the road!” Cindy winks. Her body leans against the lowered passenger window in a lascivious bow that any man would gladly unwrap. The form fitting overalls clothe her entirely. Yet there is no mistaking the flattering way in which the denim highlights every curve and dip, as if her lean body had been submerged in the very chrome used to airbrush the cars in her garage.

Gladio smirks as he recounts the stacks of twenty Gil bills he prepares to hand her for what is assuredly the fourth time. Cindy, for as charming and generous as she appears, is a fearsome businesswoman. Unfraid to call out unsquared deals and raise her voice, Gladio had known the woman long enough to understand that she took her money quite seriously.

“Y’all gotta get all the way to Galdin Quay before the Daemons take on a lil’ _road trip_ of their own! And y’alls’ little snag in the plan sure ain’t helpin’ things along!”

“Yeah, we’d stay for dinner and catch up, but I think Iggy’ll get itchy feet if we don’t make any kind ‘o progress any time soon…”

“Ohhh, that Iggy…” Cindy sighs, shaking her head and smiling. “He’s a smooth man, he is, only one I didn’t have to wave away with a stick before the first date,” she giggles, bringing her green eyes to Gladio’s listening frame, and beneath all the grease, he swears he catches a gleam of impishness. “But he _can_ be a bit wound up – it’s why I can’t say we lasted very long…”

“Well you seemed to’ve moved on alright, _Prompto_ had you pretty captive, huh? _– twenty, forty, sixty, eighty_ …” Gladio raises his eyebrows, Cindy extending a hand as he counts each bill he places in her grip.

“Come on, now, Mr. Shield – Prompto’s a lil’ cutie patootie and a bundle o’fun, but the only flirt in Lucis bigger’n him is _me_ ,” she winks, cocking a leg as she rapidly recounts the money herself, carding the bills into a grey blur.

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” Gladio grins, hands on his leather clad hips, the man absolutely taken aback.

“You gotta understand, a country girl in my line o’work’s gotta get her fun in _somehow_ – lot of the fellas stoppin’ by around Paw Paw’s place ain’t exactly what I’d call good lookin’ – thirty two hundred even!” she exclaims, pocketing the cash and patting him on an exposed, muscly bicep. “He’s a sweet boy with a lotta charm, and I ain’t got no doubt he’ll find a dame and _really_ sweep ‘er off her feet one day. Maybe I’d give ‘im my number if he were a little older’n wetter behind the ears – but even _then_ , he ain’t changed all too much since he was still in that prep school uniform o’his…” she mumbles, hoisting herself off the Regalia as a disgruntled Ignis steps out of the restaurant, Noctis and Prompto sheepishly in tow behind him.

“But I _do_ know him and His Majesty ain’t been apart a day since I first saw him comin’ around, when I fixed your old girl up a few years ago, so if there’s one thing I gotta say, he’s loyal as ever – ‘nd you _really_ don’t find that in men these days…”

“Heh, yeah...Prompto actually just got back from studyin’ in Lestallum to join Noctis’ personal entourage…”

“Yeah, Iggy Pie keeps me updated every now ‘n again. He mentioned, right around when Prompto left, somethin’ about not havin’ to endure anymore awkward teen boy advances when I swung by the Citadel to do some maintenance. I’m sure the Prince is over the moon! Well, _King_ , now…” Cindy corrects herself, the two watching as Prompto captures a few snapshots of the dusty desert landscape around them.

“Can you believe the runt’s _King of Lucis_?!” Gladio’s voice bobs up and down with kind-hearted, deep laughter, Cindy smiling and shaking her head.

“I mean, it was gonna happen sooner or later! Hopefully his second day treats ‘im a little better’n his first, huh?” she covers her mouth behind her hand as she laughs, Noctis scowling over at them as Gladio’s synchronized glance with Cindy in his direction gives their hardly gossiping away.

“…Him’n Prompto’re cute’n all…” She sighs. “…but neither ole Prince or Prompto ain’t exactly my type. But breakin’ his little heart ain’t doin’ no one no good – not that he’s gotta know all that…” she winks as she bounces toward the shade of the open garage. “’Sides, a lady with no friends is a lady with no customers! Lemmie get y’alls’ receipt from Paw Paw, I’ll have you here from sundown to sunup if you let me keep blabberin’!”

She holds up a hand and nods vigorously, leaving Gladio to scoff silently to himself, staring after her. He finds himself, in retrospect, the only one of the four of them who had never found themselves entirely smitten by her allure. Far be it from him to find Cindy unattractive; Gladio’s track record for saving face is the longest lasting: Ignis with his short-lived romance with the woman, Prompto’s endless, awkward flirtations, and Noctis’ tendency to stare directly at her breasts (even when completely covered) as she spoke, a habit of his since hitting puberty at fourteen.

“Hey, now! Y’all better not think of goin’ nowhere without payin’ an old man his due!”

A scratchy voice calls from across the station, as if the speaker’s vocal chords had been scrubbed with steel wool. Gladio, who had sauntered over toward the other three men who hover by the Regalia, turns around to see the grey, wrinkled frame of an approaching older man. The stable wobble of his stride hints at aches and strains he refuses to let slow him, his entire tanned body hidden behind yellow and red leather so thick, even Gladio subconsciously fans himself.

 _“As if three thousand Gil wasn’t due enough…”_ Noctis mumbles under his breath, Gladio thumping his King on the chest and shooting him a glaring look of warning.

“Where’s ‘e at?! Where’s Regis’ boy?!” Cid bluntly croaks, standing before the four men with his hands on his hips, considerably shorter and considerably less friendly in appearance than his granddaughter. His thick grey eyebrows are furrowed to a conjoined point in the middle of his forehead, and he shields his eyes from the setting sun’s rays, even where his baseball cap provides sufficient enough blockage.

According to both Regis and Ignis, Cid had briefly met the prince once at eight years old, when he answered an emergency service call at the Citadel – albeit Regis had passive-aggressively scheduled said call during one of his many mandatory meetings, so as to prevent any awkward run-ins with the friend he had long fallen out with.

Noctis, already a man little concerned or bothered by details and minutiae, cannot say he recalls such an introduction. But the surprising familiarity and judgmental, but supportive, glint in his eyes, speaks volumes of an unmissable bond with his family and friends, even where nearly two decades of correspondence went unmet.

“Better not be this one, all string beany, dumb hair –“ Cid points a calloused, gloved hand at Prompto, who ceases pointing finger guns at Cindy to register the man’s comment.

“Hey…!” he pipes up, frowning and folding his arms from the insult. Gladio pushes Noctis forward with a broad hand between his shoulder blades. The young man stumbles under the gesture, scowling ever so slightly; he attempts to coolly catch his balance, eyes sweeping over the old man in silence. His attempted standoffishness is met with the very same emotion in earnest. Even as their eyes meet, Cid’s own grimace does not let up.

“You ain’t no less _beany_ or silly lookin’ than your K-Pop buddy here – like someone took your old man and kicked the _dignity_ outta ‘im…” Cid shakes his head solemnly, tisking his dry tongue against his teeth. Noctis blinks twice, utterly dumbfounded. What little of a retort his mind scrambles to concoct is lost in the passing moment.

“Yet another reason why Cindy and I only had two dates – I wasn’t too keen on the eventual sizing up from grandpa…” Ignis whispers into Gladio’s ear, who leans his shoulder against that of his friend.

“Cindy definitely must’ve inherited the charm from _Grandma_ …” he whispers.

“What’re they _feedin’_ you over in that giant castle o’yer daddy’s?! Crashin’ cars, skinny, pouty – lemmie tell ya, _kid_ …” Cid places a firm hand on Noctis’ sweaty shoulder, the black haired man’s drone of _“uhhh”_ from the awkward contact going undetected under Cid’s continuation of his unsolicited advice. “Your dad’s a prideful old _son of a mother_ , ‘n it’ll be a thousand years of Darkness before we ever see eye t’eye again, but he earns the title o’King, just by _lookin’_ at ‘im. You got a _long_ way t’go before anyone can even _think_ ‘King’ around you,”

Gladio and Ignis, who are usually both quick to quash such inflammatory manners of speaking toward the Royal family, know the old man’s place in the King’s court to be too high to warrant much action. Even in his estrangement, any animosity between stems only from the most hardened of deep, mutual respect.

“That old man ‘o yours is responsible for a _lot_ o’ recklessness that affects our lives beyond that _wall_ o’his…” Cid looks Noctis directly in the eye, the young man stoically matching his gaze. “But you better not forget what’n the _hell_ kind o’ a name it is yer carryin’ around out here. You straighten up those shoulders, wipe that damn _look_ off your face, ‘nd you stick by these boys’n make that bastard _proud_ , you hear me?!”

Noctis nods once, the old man grumbling unintelligibly to himself as Cindy takes her grandfather’s moment of silence to interject with an airy, painfully high pitched sigh of a laugh.

“ _Well_ , Paw Paw, I think the boys won’t forget your wisdom even if they tried!” she beams at him, hands on her hips. Cid makes no mention of her comment, casting a single, frowning look over his shoulder at the four of them.

“Y’all don’t hesitate to come see me, now. Anytime y’all need it, ‘nd I mean that. Your daddy may be too good for _me_ , but I ain’t too good for him ‘nd his boy. But if I don’t see a new chest hair every time y’pop in, I’ll pluck ‘em off my own ‘n glue ‘em onto ya _myself_ ,”

“Uh, ye- _yeah_ ,” Noctis scratches behind his neck, Cid nodding once more over his shoulder before bluntly striding back into the garage without another word.

“Well, I won’t stay in your hair more than we already have…” Cindy chuckles, her green eyes wide, her smile slightly nervous.

“You’re kidding, right?! It’s ‘cause of you and your grandad we _have_ hair!” Prompto chuckles, Cindy waving a hand and him and scoffing with a smile. “Even if he thinks it looks stupid…” Prompto mumbles under his breath as his awkward, nervous chuckles subside.

“ _Indeed_ , Cindy, we have you and your grandfather to thank. Were it not for the nature of our business, we’d only wish to entertain you in our hair a bit longer,”

“Yeah, your old pops is always a trip,” Gladio concurs, Noctis scoffing under his breath. He chooses to maintain his silence, gripping onto the sleek handle of the backseat door and sliding in.

“He’s a bit rough, Your Highness, but I promise ya, he means well!” she smiles, resting against the empty space of the back seat window.

“Yeah, I know…” Noctis attempts to conceal the quickly returning moodiness from his voice. He rests his arm against the empty space of his own window, the Regalia’s roof lowered in the evening summer breeze.

“Well, I suppose we must be off,” Ignis nods, placing a gentle hand on Cindy’s shoulder. Gladio takes her into a hug himself.

“Bye, Papa Bear!” she waves, Prompto winking at her and striding coolly towards the Regalia.

“’Nd bye, Sunshine!” she blows Prompto a kiss, who flushes bright red at the gesture. He nearly trips on a slight uneven crack in the concrete, though he catches himself and nervously chuckles.

“Absolutely _not_ , Prompto Argentum!” Ignis glares at the blonde, for he places a hand against the driver seat’s handle, the advisor pointing a stern finger toward the seat in the back next to Noctis.

“Not even as _co-pilot_?!”

Noctis leans his head against the leather rest, smirking slightly at his friend’s earnest, disappointed whine.

“You were supposed to be the co-pilot for Noct’s _card_ , and look at how that endeavor crashed and _burned_!”

Noctis slouches into his seat; Ignis hadn’t forgiven him just yet.

The car starts with a smooth rumble, and the king closes his eyes in relaxation. Cid could lambaste his father all he wished, but there was much to be said of his father’s reign and the advances taken for granted within the wall. The engine is smooth, almost entirely quiet. The exhaust is nearly scentless. The seats are new, expertly upholstered, firm, and comfortable. And when Ignis pulls back onto the bumpy, unkempt roads, waving Cindy goodbye, the car barely bounces from the shock.

“…Okay, but like, _seriously_ , what bra size is she?!” Prompto desperately pipes from the back seat, Ignis’s dark brown sunglasses reflecting the perfectly round ball of orange that is the sun’s descent below a dark purple sky.

“Prompto, we had _two_ dates three bloody years ago!” Ignis insists, scowling. Gladio turns around in his seat to share a silent laugh with Noctis. The moody king, dirty, fatigued, and unentertained by listening to his love’s constant pining for another, leaves him an unwilling receiver.

“Even if I had gotten that far with Cindy, it would be beyond my moral scruples to disclose a woman’s private, intimate information!”

“Take lessons, boys; Iggy doesn’t kiss and tell…” Gladio winks, and Prompto dramatically groans, but Noctis scowls, moodily slouched against the sweaty leather of the backseat.

“Especially for Prompto’s _spank bank_ ,” Ignis sneers.

“TMI, Iggy,” Gladio closes his eyes and waves his hand, Prompto sinking even lower into his seat.

“ _Okay_ , guys, I get it…” Prompto mumbles, rolling his eyes and growing sheepishly quiet.

“Plus I think His Royal _Jelliness_ is gonna combust if he has to spend another minute listening to Prompto go on about her– !” Gladio chuckles, though Noctis extends a leg to heavily smash his steel toed boot into the shield’s seat.

“Gladio…” Ignis loftily glances over at his friend, stern at first, though their maintained eye contact leads to small smirks and soft snickers. Noctis’ roar of anger and slam upon the door as he moodily rests against it instantly cuts the jesting short. Prompto cowers into the quiet comforts of his camera, it being physically impossible to visually register the photos, he scans through his library so quickly. Gladio produces a sun bleached, dog-eared copy of _Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance_ from the glove compartment, his eyes fixed on the same part of the page for the better part of five minutes. Ignis merely drives through the rocky mounds, retreating into his own wordless irritation at the day and its events, and Noctis closes his eyes, stinging from both anger and the salt of the ever approaching sea air.

The Quay, Noctis notes despite his foul mood, is beautiful. A sand dusted parking lot houses idling hot rods and classic Cadillacs, their hoods still popping under the influence of the warm engines they enclose. Said cars cast shadows against the waves in the beige-yellow sand, whose grainy width stretches far along the edge of the ocean. Further off into the distance, a ferris wheel alit with white fairy lights dance in mesmerizing patterns that blear into tears the longer one focuses on them. Waves tumble serenely against the slushy banks, seafoam curling against the thick, algae-greened wood of a boardwalk leading to a wooden restaurant out at sea.

“Wonder what the insurance on a place like _that_ is a month?!” Gladio scoffs, but the poor spirits of his brothers do not return his comment with any indication they had heard it.

“Right…” Gladio awkwardly smacks his lips, wasting no time in exiting the car once Ignis parks it with suave precision. Noctis smirks. The rusty, worn down cars with their faded coats and mirror inlayed bodies, pale in comparison to the royal convoy.

“Nothing says, _‘King Of Lucis is here’_ like a ride like the Regalia,” Noctis snaps, and Gladio rolls his eyes and opens his mouth to respond, but Ignis holds up a silent hand.

“He’s had a long day…” Prompto whispers.

“…Well, it isn’t as if we’ll be sleeping on the beach, out in the open. At least not for _tonight_ , considering I have the funds…” Ignis scathingly adds, clearly not practicing the restraint he had preached to Gladio seconds before.

“Iggy and I are gonna go see to a room and dinner,” Gladio gruffly cuts in, throwing a thumb over his shoulder toward the circular diner surrounded by water. “Don’t worry about luggage. We’ll come back for it after dinner. Stay outta trouble,” he adds, the two headed toward the service counter without another word.

“ _Man_ , it’s nice to get out of the car,” Prompto beams, stretching. “I hope the beds are big and bouncy, my back’s gonna need as much pampering as it can get after sitting in the Regalia and the side of the road all day…”

“Sorry if the journey’s not up to your standards so far,” Noctis grumbles, scathing and venomous, and right away Prompto’s grin settles into a reproachful frown.

“I – I didn’t mean anything like that, Noct –“ Prompto hastily corrects, his tone soft and apologetic. Noctis stands on the other side of the Regalia, kicking the thin layer of sand that plagues the gravelly asphalt with the toes of his boot. “Iggy – Iggy’s taking it all a little better than he was this afternoon – “

“Well, Iggy doesn’t really have a _choice_ there…” Noctis folds his arms. Prompto barely trusts himself to make eye contact with his best friend, whose eyes are narrowed in introverted fury. Noctis does not even care that the blonde attempts to apologize with a soft, compassionate gleam in his eyes, one that Noctis cannot help but begrudgingly find beautiful –

“Wanna go find some seashells? I bet Ignis ‘n’ Gladio’ll be long enough that we’ll have some time to find some really cool ones – “ Prompto pipes in a final attempt at pleasantry, though Noctis averts his gaze with a haughty toss of his head to the side.

“And you call _fishing_ boring,” Noctis cuts him off with an impatient snap, hardly in the mood to entertain the blonde and his fits of fancy. He turns his back to the blonde, unable to mark the sag in his shoulders, or the vulnerability of his frown. He brings his camera to his chest, hugging it tightly against himself as he softly closes his eyes. “More for you,” Noctis’ huffy statement is slightly winded by his heavy stride in any direction away from Prompto he can make the most progress.

The other man cuts his social losses. He slowly opens his eyes before stuttering across the slopped dunes to the shore. Little time passes before he is ignited with the passion of inspiration, bringing his viewer to his eyes.

This leaves himself, Noctis realizes, left by his lonesome. The duality of his nature only works to worsen his mood: while he desires the solitude, the desertion of Ignis and Gladio as they take the reins from their seemingly inept king, and his estrangement from the best friend he loves, leaves him angrier with himself, than any of them; he is not cold-hearted, after all.

Ignis’ insistence that they forsake their royal garb in favor of more casual clothing is a credit to his wisdom; their inconspicuous clothing, coupled with the darkness of the beach, leave few beach goers with the assumption that they stand in the presence of royalty. With the entirety of the press descended upon the Citadel in Lucis, none are left behind to document the budding catastrophe of his trip to Altissa.

The long boardwalk leading to the restaurant is evenly peppered with small tea candles that cast flickering shadows and dancing sun spots against the sea. Another boardwalk leads out into the ocean another forty feet away, Noctis instantly spotting a prime fishing location for relaxation’s sake.

He wastes no time in traversing the wooden walkway, the planks creaking under the weight of his leisurely stride. He swishes his arm, cutting the air. A light blue coat of crystal dust shimmers against the water’s surface. His heavy pole rests comfortably in his right hand, and he wastes no time in casting his line far out into the calmer part of the sea.

He does not even notice that his line gives tugging way to an entranced fish, for his eyes are fixed upon Prompto a few dozen feet away. The white snaps of his detachable flash illuminate the sands for seconds at a time. Other beach goers turn to look in his direction before ultimately continuing their private enjoyment of their surroundings.

If the photos he takes are not award winning and breath taking, Noctis mentally notes, then may the entire Quay be swept up by vengeful, violent waves.

 _‘At least he has photography,’_ Noctis internally scowls, and he rips his gaze away from Prompto, facing forward as he reels the fish instead. _‘I’m not good at really anything.’_

It had been a long time since Noctis had mourned his mediocrity. To say that kingly duties came very unnaturally to him would be the gravest of understatements. _“All Caelum Kings and Queens nurture personal talents,”_ Regis had explained.  Never keen on sports, the black haired man could only tolerate throwing a ball around for so long before losing interest entirely. It had been royal tradition for Caelum men to be classically trained on cello, the women on piano. Noctis’ lessons had ceased at thirteen, when he had been given the choice to continue by his father. One he had chosen to sever with such finality, his private lesson instructor refused to return to the Citadel again. Ignis’ lessons on art history led to his brief dabbling in painting, though his inherent impatience over the entire craft left many works half started and incomplete.

 _“Perhaps it’s the paints, Your Highness…”_ a young Ignis had mused at his frustration. _“Perhaps the brush quality,”_ he’d suggested once Regis had provided the finest paints as per his son’s taste. _“Perhaps the sturdiness of the canvas,”_ he’d nearly plead in an attempt to rekindle Noctis’ patience after he discarded what he’d considered his third failed masterpiece. _“Perhaps painting simply isn’t for you.”_

What had he started and mastered, he existentially wonders. He bends down to pull a wriggling, medium sized, dark green fish from the water, surveying it with a calm look of pride on his face. Were it not for the weight of the title upon his shoulders, the young king would find nothing but comfort in his solitary, introverted nature. He would feel perfectly content to lose himself in the quiet intimacy of fishing, his only mark upon the world memorialized in the high scores of his many video games.

Prompto, the socializer, the artist, the performer – would that he could, he would switch titles with him instantaneously. But, Noctis sighs, casting the fish back into the water; it would be just as cruel and unfair a fate for him as it is for Noctis.

The blonde, Noctis contemplates with a hint of jealousy, must have come across many people of various personalities and strengths during his educational escapades abroad. Lestallum called for only the best, after all. What of the ones who had never quit their cello lessons, their fingers blistered and calloused over and over, though imbued with dexterous talent in exchange? They had long surpassed Noctis in patience and ability. What of the ones who put paint to easel, thoughtlessly creating whole worlds, all with the flick of the wrist? They too, had surpassed Noctis in determination and aptitude. There’s little to be said of those who had earned the reverence of their peers, unlike Noctis himself, unremarkable, commanding awe merely because of the hall of kings from which he emerged.

 _‘No wonder he likes Cindy,’_ Noctis spits under his breath, flinging his fishing rod away in a flash of blue. _‘Cindy’s a tough, funny girl, a mechanic. Luna, too. Tough, smart, poised, pretty…’_

Noctis’ deliberate fall from the boardwalk is absorbed by the wavy sand of the shore below. Wishing to maintain his privacy, He plops down into the cold, grainy blanket, leaning his back against the thick wood of a support beam belonging to the boardwalk. The wooden structure shields his frame in shadow, the only thing betraying his solitude being the slightly shift he makes when the sand embosses itself into his skin after a while.

He loses track of time, somewhere around the thirtieth time he watches the greenish-blue of the water gather into a white foam against the bank. A dog barks every now and again, splashing into the sea as it chases after a stick its owners throw. If only life were as simple for him as it appears to be for dogs.

“Noct, you okay?”

Noctis jumps, scowling when he meets Prompto’s peeking gaze as he sticks out behind the beam. The blonde is still wide-eyed and careful in his body language. Noctis’ unfriendly expression is entirely superficial, for the king finds Prompto could not have appeared at any better time to rescue him from his own thoughts.

“It’s actually kinda weird, catching you _below_ somewhere, instead of like, up _high_ where you warped!”

Noctis raises a single, silent eyebrow in response to his friend’s lame, awkward attempts at conversation. He neither shrugs off, nor encourages Prompto to sit beside him. Their dusty pant legs rest against that of the other, Prompto’s slightly wet from salty sea spray. The cool wetness seeps through Noctis’ own cargo pants, chilling to the bone.

Prompto grabs Noctis’ ungloved hands, forcing them into a make shift basin as he empties the contents of his camera bag into his hands. Brown and white spotted fans curve against his dry palms, smooth, beige sand dollar fragments peppering the ocean salad like crusty croutons. Tiny, bright pink conches spiral against the calloused ridges of his fingers, and Noctis brings a thumb to ghost along the bumpy surface of a detached lobster claw.

“I know you said it was boring up there…” Prompto starts, though Noctis ignores him in favor of the aquatic collection he twists in his hands. “But I thought you’d still think I found some pretty cool stuff.”

Noctis nods so subtly, Prompto misses the gesture entirely. Noctis feels the burning of his friend’s gaze, and it leaves him uncomfortable and warm, even in the freezing shadow of the night that douses them.

“I didn’t know just how much _different_ life could be outside of Lucis…” Prompto reminisces, his eyes cast diagonally to view the waves as they barely miss their feet by forty eight or so inches. “I’d never seen a seashell in my life before leaving Insomnia. The plants, the animals, the _weather_. There’s so much going on outside of the Crown City –“

“So why not go back there, then?!” Noctis snaps, and Prompto blinks twice.

“Well, I _am_ Noct, and I’m here, with _you_ , like – there –there were so many things in Lestallum I wanted to show you, Noct…” Prompto’s sigh morphs into a melancholy whisper, but the mention of his disappearance causes the scowl to remerge upon the king’s face.

“Take Cindy instead,” Noctis spits, forcefully shoving the seashells haphazardly into Prompto’s hands. “Take the _Regalia_ , even, since you won’t _crash_ it and all…”

“You’re not _actually_ still mad at me, are you?!” Prompto whispers, and for the first time in nearly an hour, Noctis turns to face the first and only person he had ever fallen in love with. For the briefest flash of a second, Noctis _hates_ him. He hates the way his expressive features convey such candid, unabashed emotion. He hates the way the freckles on his cheeks and nose darken under the sun’s earlier influence, and how they instantly grip onto his affection as if they are magnetic, and yet so polarizing. He resents the way his thin, pink lips are slightly parted with worry, kissable even where their edges are chapped and purple where he had chewed upon them all day with concern over Noctis’ condition.

Noctis hates the way, he, King of Lucis, could be so emotionally undone and thwarted by their separation, by Prompto’s wandering eyes, by the thought alone of the blonde no longer looking up to him as his _hero_. The question, Noctis realizes, is redundant and futile.

“Look, I – I’m sorry – “ Prompto chokes, but Noctis wraps his arms around his knees, leaning his chin atop them.

“We’ve always ribbed each other – “

“Yeah, but like, never in front of other people!” Noctis moodily refutes the blonde, who seems happy enough to finally garner a response from the man that he animatedly pushes the conversation further.

“Come on, Noct! Iggy and Gladio and Cor and Iris basically have me saved under their phone under _Monkey Butt_ –“

“Yeah, but _Iggy and Gladio and Cor and Iris_ aren’t interested in _dating_ you…” Noctis rolls his piercing grey eyes, Prompto averting his blue ones onto the waves once more. “And you’re not interested in dating _them_.” He is silent with realization that jealousy toward _him_ is what sours Noctis’ mood, much more so than being made the butt of any animal or joke.

“Come on, you _really_ think Cindy would go for me?! As if!” Prompto dreamily sighs, though it does nothing to alleviate Noctis’ irritation.

“And what’s it supposed to mean that I _would_?!” he skeptically questions, Prompto laughing and shaking his head.

I mean, _nothing_ , because we _can’t_ be together. I – Noct, like, I told you earlier, you’re marrying Luna in like, _eleven_ days – look, just because this week is ours, what about the next _seventy years_ we have to spend pretending like none of this ever happened?!” Prompto cuts Noctis off mid-sentence, his mouth open wide with a hastily crafted counter argument.

Noctis furrows his brow, partially from thought, partially from guilt. Prompto does not say it with words, but his weary expression says it all. What Noctis wishes is selfish. Who is he, already, the handsome and most beloved King of Lucis, to get the Lady Oracle and Princess that they both so dearly cherish. Who is he to take her as his queen, to have Prompto as his Glaive. Who is he, to subject Prompto to emotional and sexual celibacy, for a man not even guaranteed to return to affection in their lifetimes, even secretly?

Noctis’ face hardens with silent thought, his breath even and steady as he subconsciously allows it to carry his thought process to the end. There is much to be said of his own selfish desire to wed the most incredible woman he would ever come to know, while also stealing his greatest friend into shady corners and forgotten cupboards to remind him just where it was, precisely, the King’s eye was drawn. But more than that selfishness, a _fear_ governs him. A constant, nagging fear that grips him tightly, constricting his blood flow until his hands tingle and his throat swells with a loss of feeling.

The fear of losing his father. The fear of losing Luna to a single wrong step down the path of never ending diplomacy. The fear of losing Ignis’ respect, and Gladio’s faith. Let alone, Noctis exhales with a shuddering sigh, the thought of losing Prompto. Worse over, the young king had already lost him once.

“Look, I’m just – I’m afraid of _losing_ you again, okay?!” Noctis quietly, but aggressively growls, his hands curled in frustration. Prompto furrows his brow sympathetically, inching closer to put an arm around his shoulder. He is grateful Noctis does not shrug it away, but he still allows the other man a chance to collect his thoughts. “All of you. I’m afraid of losing _all of you_ – “

“Noct, look, I’m not going anywhere –“

“I already lost you as my best friend. Prom, the high school best friend, he’s – he’s been gone since we – you know – the festival. But – but…you’re here now, as my _Glaive_ , and – and what if I lose you to war, or – or what if I make decisions as King where I lose Prom, the one who sees me as his hero?“ Noctis chokes, running a hand through his hair.

“You remember that…?” Prompto whispers, wide-eyed, his fair skin, slightly flushed with surprise.

“I remember everything you said that day. If you hadn’t called me an asshole in the snow that day, dude…” Noctis sighs. “You did so much for me, and you know that. You’ve changed me in so many ways, and you telling me how you looked up to me as your hero, it’s – it’s something I’ve never really forgotten. I guess it’s the only time I’ve ever felt like I’ve done anything for anybody, and like – it’s the only time I’ve ever even cared to _be_ anybody…”

The two watch the tide as it draws further and further away, revealing yet another layer of shells. Laughter and chatter from the attractions many feet away serve as white noise over top the silence they welcome, though Noctis inhales to speak again after ten minutes.

“Seriously, I get the hearth and home thing, but a lot of the time, I’d get out of bed _just_ for you…and eventually I’m gonna have to lose the Prom I love, the Prom who loves me _back_ , and I know that, I _do_ …” Noctis pauses, Prompto still listening intently.

“Noct, I’m always gonna have these feelings for you…” Prompto, oddly enough, just barely chuckles. “I always have, ever since we first met…” he laughs again, softly, and it catches in his throat as he draws circles in the sand with the tip of his index finger. Noctis is suddenly numb, dreamily watching the finger as it spirals smoothly into the sand that displaces to even out the change of movement.

“Like, Eos to Noct?! I was _nine_ , learning how to run marathons so you wouldn’t think I was the lamest thing in existence,” he rolls his blue eyes, and cannot help but smile as he meets Noctis’ grey ones. “Maybe I didn’t get what those feelings were at the time, but I’ve always been drawn to you, and I don’t see that stopping anytime soon,” Prompto absentmindedly plays with the wristband covering his bar code.

“Well, you’re my hero _too_ , you know…” Noctis whispers, but Prompto shakes his head quickly.

“Stop…” Prompto blows a raspberry, waving a hand and shaking his head.

“Like, there’s not a lot I can do, Prom. Apart from my title and what I’ve been given, I’m not really _good_ at anything – and before you say anything, I’m not putting myself down, just that…I’ve always spent my whole life wondering what’ll make me great, a good leader, a good King, well…”

Prompto does not interrupt the second Noctis takes before he continues.

“I think I’ve kinda got an idea. If I can be a great king, even greater than my dad, then I can protect the ones around me I look up to, who are so much greater than _me_ – Luna, the bossest member of any royal family I’ve ever met, and I’ve met a lot of them. Iggy, who’s always shown me what self-sacrifice and dignity means, even if I haven’t always been the greatest with follow up. Gladio, who’s always shown me how to toe the line of duty and friendship, and how they can cross, and how he’s always been loyal to me, even when he hated my guts, because he believed in me. My _dad_ , I mean, I don’t really have to go say anything there. Cor, who was kickin’ ass and takin’ names at _half_ my age. And _you_ , Prom. You’ve been through so much, without any money, or titles, or protection, or whatever. You’ve always just been this bright, wonderful person, even when it’s obvious that you’re hurting – no, hear me out –“

Noctis interrupts Prompto before he can speak, the blonde nodding and complying.

“You’re a talented artist, the greatest I’ve ever known, and the greatest friend anyone could ask for…and all of you are here for _me_ , because I just so happened to pop out of a queen’s – well…” Noctis chuckles before he utters an explicit word about his own mother. “So if my greatness is in rising up and becoming the King no one else can, that can keep the world spinnin’ long enough for you all to keep doin’ your thing, then cool. Then that’ll make me great, and I’m okay with that,“ he solemnly finishes, but Prompto can barely make it ten seconds into their latest silence before he bursts into a laughter so warm and loud, Noctis cannot help but crack a bit of a smile.

“… _What_ …?” Noctis nervously attempts to snap, though his tone swings up at the reluctant grin that spreads across is lips.

“That got _really_ real there, Noct…” Prompto grins. Although Noctis cannot entirely say he is pleased his best friend responds to his vulnerability with laughter, he is grateful the blonde does what he does best; lift his spirits in the most genuine of ways, even where Noctis himself does not wish for them to be risen.

“Well, that conversation is as _real_ as it gets,” Noctis flushes, rubbing sand out of his eyes. “I mean, you saw my first day as king…” He shamefully recounts the events of the day.

“And I wouldn’t want anyone else to _be_ my king, even if he’s a hot ass mess,” Prompto smiles, Noctis no longer able to withstand the pull of the man beside him and bringing him into a soft kiss. “Or my best friend…” Prompto amends once they break apart.

“And what about your boyfriend?”

The words slip out of Noctis’ mouth before he can stop them, almost as wriggly and slimy as any fish in the sea between Leide and Altissa he could possibly catch. Prompto’s laughter fades softly into a face of longing mingled with hurt. Where his eyes are bright with the statement of, _“I’d want nothing more,”_ his silent, stoic frown retorts, _“But you and I both know better.”_

He knows nothing, however. He does not know what it is about the accidental utterance that leaves Prompto so desirable. He does not know what takes Gladio and Ignis so long, and he does not know what inspires Prompto to place a quick peck against his lips. He does not know why the question that leaves Prompto so openly at odds with his thoughts is the one that finally robs him of his self-control. He does not know how just exactly quickly he closes the gap between them.

All Noctis knows is his three-year-old wish to be exactly that to the blonde: his boyfriend. Noctis’ heart beats in his throat as he extends a hand to curl in his friend’s ocean-moistened hair, sharing with him the slowest, deepest kisses they’ve yet enjoyed. While he subconsciously registers Prompto’s ginger nod in between kisses, he cannot say at which point specifically he laid Prompto against the sand, pressing his weight on top of him, their mouths connected all the while.

The sand digs painful, rectangular grooves into his forearm, for he leans against them in order to hoist himself up across Prompto’s frame. Prompto wraps his hands in Noctis’ messy head of black hair, pulling his face down and demanding their intimacy continues.

Prompto utters a soft, whining groan as their mutual shift causes Noctis’ thigh to brush against the growing tightness in his friend’s already snug, leopard print jeans. But where rawness in their moment causes Prompto to recoil slightly from embarrassment, Noctis maintains their gaze. Prompto’s eyes flutter softly shut as the other brings a hand to cup him just overtop his clothes, and the pounding in his ears is still too quiet to mask the little moans Prompto dares to steal –

“NOCT!” a voice calls from up above, and almost like a broken trance, the two young men blink rapidly at one another until the sheen of passion in their eyes no longer clouds their vision. Their breaths heave heavily, Prompto’s lips parted just slightly as he tries to steady the adrenaline that courses through him.

Noctis is grateful the two sit up at arms’ length away from the other when Ignis peers underneath the board walk to check for them. Prompto is flushed and sweaty, running a hand through his hair when Gladio’s face joins that of the advisor.

“Hidin’ won’t do either of you any good, Iggy already got the rooms sorted,” Gladio presumptuously lectures, the younger two of the four of them momentarily silent, still winded. Though Prompto, in a display of just one of the many things about the blonde Noctis fell in love with, immediately deflects the awkwardness with yet another unfurling smile and set of laughs that keep the other two focused on his sandy face, rather than his busy trousers.

Noctis grins sheepishly, rubbing behind his neck, the two of them crawling out from under the board walk to meet Ignis and Gladio above ground.

“What in the world were you two doing down there?!” Ignis sneers, amber eyes darting between them both.

“Seashell hunting!” Prompto pipes up with such a deceptive quickness that all Noctis can do is shrug when the advisor turns his skeptical gaze on him.

“Well you’re both _filthy_ , that’s already a set of clothes that’re indecent until we can find a launder,” he starts, though he is cut short by Prompto’s unceremonious shoving of a piece of coral directly under his nose. Gladio picks up a dark brown conch shell from Prompto’s camera bag, eyebrows raised as he twists it at eye level.

“You think we can sell any of these for money? You got a good eye for art, Blondie!” Gladio grins, Prompto nodding emphatically as they begin their pace toward the hotel.

“Ooo, oo! How about we set up a booth tomorrow and sell them to tourists, saying _King Noctis_ caught these himself! We can make a _fortune_!” he enthusiastically suggests, hopping in what Ignis and Gladio to assume to be a surplus of energy, but what Noctis knows to be the still softening erection in his pants.

“ _Gross_ , don’t volunteer me for that,” Noctis sneers, stopping in his tracks and folding his arms. Even where lightheadedness still clouds his thoughts, white hot and buzzing and exciting, he has enough presence of mind to be disgusted at the thought of impromptu public engagement.

“I’m afraid that with us struggling to come up with funds, such suggestions are not exactly beneath us…” Ignis peers at Noctis sideways, his strut toward the hotel slow and haughty.

“I know twenty years of being a prince and one day as king doesn’t exactly leave you familiar with the phrase and all, but _beggars can’t be choosers_ , Sleepyhead…” Gladio lectures.

Noctis throws his head back and groans. Worse than suffering through Ignis’ silent, scolding disapproval could only be unexpectedly waking up early to engage with constituents.

“All jests aside, discussions of money making ideas will best be saved for breakfast tomorrow. It’s nearly nine thirty at night, today’s been an absolute _disaster_ , and I absolutely cannot stand the thought of not being in bed another half hour,”

“Aww man! So then I don’t get to sell my shells?!” Prompto frowns, Noctis grinning smugly and waving his hand.

“Sorry Prom, there’s nowhere in Iggy’s schedule for _seashell salesmen_ ,”

“I’ll have you know I tossed the time table at Cindy’s, for one, and that a nice conversation with Gladio while you two were _seashell hunting_ inspired me to _ease up_ just a tad, and go with the flow, you could say…” Ignis slyly grins, for Gladio and Noctis share a laugh and a comment behind their hands.

“For two, the reason why I gave us two weeks in our trip to Altissa was because I was entirely certain something would go wrong to delay us significantly! Merely that I was expecting something more along the lines of a political emergency, as opposed to a lost credit card and crashed Regalia. You boys ought to remember the tent from this morning!” he raises his voice, though only to capture the attention of Noctis and Prompto who now share a joke with one another.

“That’s because that tent shall be our sleeping quarters after tonight –“

 _“NO!!!!!”_ the two both cry in unison, utterly distraught. Gladio grins, arms crossed, thumping them both on the back.

“He’s _kidding_!” Prompto croaks in an attempt to bargain with the shield, Gladio shaking his head and beaming.

“Event planner Iggy wins again!”

“Again, all details are to be promptly discussed tomorrow at eight am sharp over breakfast,”

“Whatever happened to _easing up_ – ow!” Noctis hisses and scowls, his sass earning a twisted ear from Ignis by his side.

“I’m easing up, not _easing off_ …” Ignis steps ahead as they approach the hotel service counter, the man leaning an elbow against the waxed desk. “Besides, you’d think if anyone’d want an end to their first day as _You Know What_ , it’d be you…yes, I have a one room, four bed reservation this evening under _Mathematica_ ,” Ignis lowers his voice, the hotel clerk’s eyes lighting up with realization; it would have been unwise to speak their name aloud amongst commoners.

“Yup! Your reservation is processed here, but uh, I’m afraid our family suites are entirely booked! We give priority to loyalty members of our hotel, and lots of people’re headin’ over to Altissa to see the royal wedding!” the teenager behind the bar grins, Noctis nervously stepping away from the counter and pacing casually.

“Drat, I see…” Ignis grumbles, bringing his index finger to his chin.

“Does that mean we pitch the tent up a night early?” Gladio raises his eyebrows, but the teenager behind the counter shakes his head.

“No, no, no! I have two one bedroom luxury class suites available! As long as you guys don’t mind being in two separate rooms and sharing a bed to two each, it’s actually an _upgrade_ room wise, and I won’t charge since we’re booked despite your reservation!”

Ignis silently deliberates, but Gladio whispers into his ear.

“Look, unless you’re _really_ eager to share the tent without a bath –“

“It’s not that, just…” Ignis whispers, darting his eyes to Prompto and Noctis, who are huddled over the blonde’s cellphone as they wait for further instructions.

“Look, Iggy, just leave it be. It’s their issue to solve, remember? Plus they’ve been sharin’ beds now for ages, they’ve probably got a system by now,” Gladio grunts back, and Ignis nods in confirmation of the arrangements.

“Hey, listen up!” Gladio whistles, Prompto jumping and Noctis looking up from the phone leisurely. “You two’re gonna be in the room right down the hall from us, alright?” Gladio begins, handing them both their key cards. “It’s one bed, so play nice. We got a lot of logistical nightmares to solve tomorrow and anyone who gets a shitty night’s sleep with a shitty attitude is gonna have _my_ attitude to deal with, you get it? So make sure you share your pillows and blankets,”

Both young men nod quickly.

“So you figure out your shower and sleeping arrangements now. No stayin’ up mega late and no actin’ mega dumb. Make sure you leave everything the way you found it, and Prompto, just because there’s bubble bath –“

“WOOHOO! BATH TIME! –“

“That doesn’t mean you have to use it all…”

“Alright, Camp Counselor Gladio…” Noctis rolls his eyes, though his tone is light and joking.

“One noise complaint and I’ll flay you both,” Ignis sternly warns, Noctis and Prompto jumping at the implication.

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” Noctis questions, eyes wide, Prompto beet red and guilty for _something_ , even if the two older men are not sure what exactly.

“That means no video games, no _loud talking_ ,” Ignis directs a specific glare at Prompto. “…and just be cognizant of the fact that tomorrow requires a lot of us,”

“Dinner’s an order service, so please do not wait until too late to order!”

“We’re just down the hall, alright?!” Gladio nods, Ignis swiping the key card, and the two file into their hotel room a soft click of the door behind them.

“Come on, Noct, time for bed…” Prompto yawns, stretching and cracking his lower back as he does so. The other’s cheeks burn as he catches a glimpse of Prompto’s toned abdomen, and Noctis’ hand fumbles with the key card as he nervously tries to recover. He gets it on the fourth try, particularly after a suspicious glance from Prompto, and right away they’re both treated to the luxurious view of their room for the evening.

The carpet is rich and purple, the walls papered in a thick, golden motif of Fleur De Lises. A king-sized bed sits in the middle, multiple frilly goose pillows resting against the head board. A red plush blanket smoothly covers the bed’s surface, and sturdy chintz armchairs flank the room in every corner.

“Man, this is nice!” Prompto rushes about the room, inspecting everything there is to up end. “Look, they even put mints on our pillows!”

“I mean, for as expensive as this place probably is, it better be nice…” Noctis mumbles, swiping his mint off a pillow. Prompto already consumes his, the chalky, spicy lump melting in his mouth.

“Gonna go take a look at the view!” Prompto rushes to the window, pulling aside a thick purple curtain and looking out at the ocean as it crashes onto rocks below. The rhythm of the water must capture his attention, for he falls silent for the better part of five minutes. It leaves Noctis time investigate the room himself.

“You don’t think he saw us, did you?” he finally asks after a few minutes, leaning against the chilly glass pane.

“Who?” Noctis slowly looks up from the dinner menu at the blonde, who chews on his bottom lip.

“Uh…Iggy. When – when we were underneath the board walk…” Prompto sheepishly whispers. Noctis, who brushes a hand against the smooth, round table with a green lamp and dinner menu, shakes his head.

“Nah…” he grunts, surveying his blurry reflection in the meticulously waxed table. “Nah, I don’t,” he wearily adds before stretching and falling into an armchair. He leans his head back, closing his weary eyes.

Prompto darts his eyes to the side, saying nothing and folding his arms; even if Ignis had not caught them in the act, he is long and well aware enough of their feelings for the other to draw his own conclusions as to what the two could have possibly begun with time away from prying eyes.

“The good news is that you’re _you_ enough that seashell hunting would make perfect sense,”

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?!” Prompto pouts, Noctis opening his eyes and letting out a healthy laugh at his friend’s expression of mock offense.

“It’s not a _bad_ thing, Prom, just that outta the four of us, no one would ever bat an eye if we caught you under a bridge in the dark with someone you had a thing for and you told us you were seashell hunting,”

“Not my fault seashells are neat, man,” Prompto smiles, eyes wide, eyebrows raised. “I mean, there’s no doubt Gladio or Iggy would have been up to something if _they’d_ been the ones caught with the one they _have a thing for_ ,”

“Shit, maybe not you either, Prom – I’m the only one of the four of us who’s still a _virgin_ …”

Prompto could not miss the venom in his friend’s own self-aimed dig, even if the joking overtone were genuine. Prompto’s smile falters, leaning his back flat against the cool pane of the window.

“You know, Noct, it’s not really all that it’s cracked up to be –“ Prompto carefully starts, imitating Noctis in that he injects his own statement with a false lightness.

“Easy for you to say, you’ve actually had sex before _twenty years old_ …”

“Yeah, and I mean, it was just _alright_ , I guess. Like it’s gonna sound super lame, and super cliché and all, but I _really_ wish I had just waited…”

“What do you mean?” Noctis wonders, and Prompto scratches behind his neck. His best friend, even given his inarguable academic intellect and valedictorian status, could be terribly dense at times.

“I just mean like, yeah, she was nice and all, and it was _enjoyable_ , but I don’t even really remember it to be honest. It’d be nice to experience, you know, _that_ – with someone I actually _love_ and trust, someone who knows and gets me. Maybe I’m just old school, but I guess I realized that without that emotional connection, it just kinda feels like jammin’ it back and forth to me,”

They both ignore the obvious, in that neither of them need to specify that they both have the idea of sex with the other on their minds. Noctis’s thumbs swirl against the embossed, flowery fabric in absentminded circles, and Prompto clicks the tips of his toes against the carpeted floor in an attempt to re-direct his restlessness at the subject matter.

“Well, even I know enough about sex to know that if you describe it as _jammin’ it back and forth_ , you’re probably doing it wrong,” Noctis grins, his face instantly pelted with a cloth napkin from off the middle table.

“I’m serious though, dude. I just – I just wanna _really_ share that sort of closeness with someone I love, to know that after the _deed’s been done_ and all, that we’ll cuddle and laugh and joke and know each other’s bodies even better and never let each other go…”

“ _We’ll_? _We_?” Noctis wonders with a raised eyebrow, Prompto instantly turning beet red.

“Come on, Noct?!” Prompto forcefully hisses.

“I dunno, maybe you met someone up in Lestallum…” Noctis tries to casually deflect, his voice permeating with the same sarcastic cheeriness from before.

“Don’t be dumb, Noct, you know _what_ I mean and you know _who_ I mean…” Prompto’s voice is void of humor, his expression full of gentle sentiment.

“So then you’re saying that the one time you had sex, it was bad, and you’d rather do that with – uh – with uh…” Noctis awkwardly avoids finishing the sentence _“with me”_. Both of them conveniently choose to subconsciously agree to not discuss that Noctis’ hand was cupping his erection an hour ago, even if It had been over his pants.

“I’m just sayin’, it wasn’t all that it’s cracked up to be, and that sure, there are tons of people who can fuck around no problem, and it works _for them_ , but at least to me and how I feel, you don’t seem like a loser, or it’s not such a bad thing if you’re still a virgin for – for Luna –“  Prompto stutters, staring intently down at the carpet.

“…Well, who says I wanna wait for Luna?”

Prompto’s head instantly shoots up, and the glint in his friend’s eyes says it all.

“What do you mean, Noct?!” Prompto asks softly, posing the question even where they both very clearly find the answer without it. The young king hoists himself from his chair, shrugging defensively.

“Prom, I already said it last night, before we slept…” he grunts, twisting in place. Prompto’s entire body grows numb, tingly and hot and lightheaded as his eyes scan over the body of his best friend, knowing they both wish to be tangled within the other…

But even where they must not speak their intentions aloud, Prompto is instead plagued with a slew of questions: What if they’re not sexually compatible? What if they should be discovered, or overheard? What if their sex only entrenches them further in their emotional sink hole, what if he should love Noctis so, that he is forever unable to entertain the thought of sex with anyone else for his entire lifetime?

“I mean I’m not like, _sayin’ anything_ –“ Noctis stumbles, and the two of them stand awkwardly, albeit only inches apart.

“Neither am I!” Prompto nervously concedes, waving his hands back and forth.

“And I’m not sayin’ we should _do_ anything, either –“ Noctis adds.

“We said in three days, and it’s only been _one_ …” Prompto nods.

“But you heard what Iggy said, that because I left the card at my place…” he sighs from embarrassment before continuing. “…we’re gonna have to sleep in Gladio’s tent, and uh, I don’t think tents are very private…”

“So what _are_ you saying, Noct?” Prompto whispers, approaching his best friend so slowly, Noctis cannot say for sure he actually comes closer. Noctis scoffs; Prompto had always been the socializer of the two of them, why is it that _he_ must be the one to put it into words?

“Look, you – you don’t have to if you don’t want to –“ Noctis stammers, wishing the conversation had never strayed into such territory, that he had merely pretended to ignore Prompto’s question and gone to bed –

“Have to _what_?” Prompto asks once again, but the nature of the question is futile. Their noses touch, and Prompto’s arms are laced around Noctis’ neck, and they’re kissing again, before either of them can over analyze or think their actions.

Noctis cannot help but slip his own arms around Prompto’s waist, his best friend’s body toned and firm, every inch of hip Noctis has the luxury to explore only signaling his silent suggestion even further.

“What if I said I wanted to, Noct?”

Noctis inhales so sharply at his friend’s implication that he bows over, choking.

“I guess you’d die!” Prompto starts laughing, clapping Noctis’ back and running his fingers through his hair. “You alright?” Prompto questions through his chuckle, Noctis bright red and wide-eyed as he stands upright once more.

“I – I dunno –“ Noctis stammers, Prompto laughing and shaking his head.

“Look, uh – I uh – I figured that between the two of us, it’d go something a bit like this,”

“It?! Like this?!” Noctis repeats, folding his arms, though intrigued by Prompto’s point.

“Just like, I dunno, _awkward old me_ …”

“It’s a wonder you _got_ laid the first time,” Noctis jokes, Prompto sticking out his tongue and breathing in heavily before continuing. But Noctis is glad, grateful for his lame friend that he dearly loves; for without his social awkwardness, he would have assuredly garnered the affection of another long ago.

“So, uh…yesterday, when we talked about it a bit, I kinda did some googling during the drive here, right?”

“Right…” Noctis slowly nods, shifting his weight to hide his quickly returning hardness.

“Right, okay.” Prompto appears to psych himself up, exhaling sharply and bringing his gaze back up to Noctis’. “Remember how we both said we had no clue what – what to do?”

Noctis raises an eyebrow, nodding slowly ever still. Prompto chews on his bottom lip, darting his eyes before squaring his shoulders and leaning into Noctis’ ear.

“Uhuh…” Noctis nods into Prompto’s whispers. “Wait, what?!” Noctis jumps, Prompto digging his fingers deeper into his friend’s shoulders in order to keep himself steady. “You put _what_ where?!”

“Yeah, I know, uh – but like – uh – apparently there’s this stuff – lube or whatever, and I uh, I bought some at the gas station while you were moping and Iggy and Gladio were huffing in a corner – and I got – I got condoms, and a pregnancy test – “

“Why a pregnancy test, what the hell is wrong with you?!” Noctis booms, still in shock by Prompto’s _penetrating_ information. “Did you miss the sex ed unit at school?!”

“Well I bought it so that if anyone checked my bag, they wouldn’t know I was basically buying supplies to _lay the king_!”

“Don’t _say_ it like that!” Noctis pushes his friend playfully, though he rubs his forehead, pacing in slow circles, lost in thought. “So you’re serious, right? You’re not just being _you_ , you’re serious – that’s – that’s what we’d have to do?!”

“I mean, we don’t _have_ to – and what do you mean being _me_?!“ Prompto shrugs, folding his arms defensively.

“I mean, like, you’re not joking or playing around, just like – I – I’ve never shoved anything up my _ass_ before,” Noctis’ cheeks burn simply due to hearing such a phrase come out of his own mouth. While the young man had always been relatively reserved sexually, he’d never felt the need to question his own sexuality. Women, Noctis feels, even now, are perfectly gravitating, attractive beings. Much like Prompto, he’d never expected to develop feelings for another man, but even the vehement insistence of such a truth would not undo the fact that, of all of the people on earth to fall in love with, another man happened to be the one.

“Uh, hello?! Not exactly what I’ve been doing to destress on the weekends either, dude!” Prompto retorts, Noctis snorting as the two share laughter that diffuses only _some_ of the awkwardness.

“Look, uh I’m – I’m up for trying it – with _you_ anyway,” Prompto grins as Noctis claps his hands against his own ass cheeks through his pants. “’Cause I mean, it’s not exactly something you just let anyone do, I guess…”

Noctis blinks twice. If he were ever dealt such an underhanded compliment, _“If I were gonna let anyone fuck me in the ass, it’d be you!”_ would definitely rank amongst the top.

“Can I get ten minutes to gear myself up?” Noctis places his hands on his hips, Prompto nodding emphatically.

“Yeah – yeah. We, uh. We should probably take a bath after today anyway, the google search I did suggested cleaning up and stuff…”

“Yeah, not too into ass sweat to be honest,” Noctis mumbles.

“So…bath time?” Prompto awkwardly questions, and Noctis nods.

He follows the blonde as he tears into the bathroom and turns on the light, utterly stunned by what he sees.

The floors and walls are made out of granite so shiny, the chandelier above reflects its dozens of crystals upon its surface. A black strip of marble outlines the perimeter where the floor meets the wall, and the massive bathtub built into the floor comes equipped with a basket of luxury soaps and bath soaks.

Noctis, who had only known the finest of things, has to admit the bathroom itself is nice. The golden mood lighting is made only richer by the musky smell of teakwood candles, their wicks crackling and flickering as they pleasantly burn.

Prompto already draws the water, back turned to Noctis as he pulls his shirt above his head.

His call for a bath is a wise one, Noctis notices. His entire frame is covered in dark and brown streaks of hidden dirt, the rising steam of the bath already working to break up the grime settled on his face.

“Just don’t take forever, alright…?” Noctis sheepishly concedes before turning around, the athletic body of his best friend reawakening the sensations the two had felt below the board walk. The earlier sensations mingled with fear, what with the newness that awaits them after the bath leaving him both anxious and hot.

“Why not just hop in?” Prompto tries to casually suggest, but the squeak in his voice gives away his anxiety.

Noctis opens his mouth to speak, but Prompto shakes his head as his hands work on his own belt and pants. He slides them down his muscular, defined legs, left standing in only a pair of tight, bright blue boxers adorned with cartoon Chocobo heads. Noctis snorts at the ridiculousness of it, even where his blood runs hot and quick as his heart pumps it rapidly throughout his body.

“Saves us time, if we both just bathe together, earlier to bed I guess…” Noctis awkwardly grumbles, trying his hardest to ignore the definition in his best friend’s boxer shorts – even where he harshly fails. Ignis would be so proud of Noctis’ calm and deliberating rationale, even if he chooses to enact his advisor’s greatest examples in the most compromising of times.

“Sure, Noct…” Prompto whispers before bringing him into another kiss. Where Noctis’ hands are stationary against Prompto’s hips, the blonde’s own twist and play with the dangling draw strings of Noctis’ cargo trousers. The blonde can tell his friend is lost in thought, Noctis guiltily wondering just where and how precisely the jumpy and insecure friend he once befriended had adopted such sexual dominance.

 _‘How many art school girls has he undressed like this?!’_ Noctis jealously wonders, but Prompto cuts his envy short. Their hands gently explore each other’s lithe, tight bodies, gritty with dirt and dried sweat. Their tongues slowly coax that of the other into slow, deep kisses, and it is only when they break apart that Noctis realizes his fingers play absentmindedly with the waist band of Prompto’s shorts.

Perhaps he had spoken of Prompto’s dominance too soon. The implication that they both stand there before the other with only such small garments sparing their nudity catches up to his hasty actions. Where the two had seen one another in night clothes, and even in states of undress, it had never been in such a licentiously inviting scenario.

The two stand there awkwardly, arms wrapped around one another, and it is in the eye contact they dare to share that Noctis finds the strength to make his next move.

_‘Fuck it.’_

A surge of both desire and nervousness courses through Noctis as he tugs Prompto’s shorts from his waist, the resistance of the blonde’s returning hardness catching the fabric for only a moment before the garment pools helplessly at his ankles. Prompto, now completely undressed, leaves Noctis with little time to observe his erection, for he slips into the warm, bubbly water of the tub. He sighs further into comfort, sinking into its warm embrace.

“Come on, Noct…” Prompto slowly opens his eyes to meet his friend’s gaze, and Noctis does not need telling twice. The perfumy smell of the rich, large bubbles entices Noctis to do the same. He slips out of his pants and underwear, his own semi-hardness slapping against his thighs as he rushes through the cutting air and slowly sinks into the tub himself.

His sore muscles are instantly caressed by the soothing heat of the water. His shoulder blades, tensed and pulled, relax and unfurl from constriction. His thighs, feet, and abdomen pool with the comfort of the soaking therapy, but the positive effects of the bath upon his body do little to mask what interests him the most within the water.

Noctis makes up for their briefly lost moments by closing the distance between them, pressing his hands on Prompto’s cheeks, and returning his kiss. The only sound caused between them is that of the water as it displaces with their subtle movements, droplets that drips from their arms and hair hitting the surface.

Prompto exhales longingly as they finally break apart. Noctis’ eyes track the slow descent of a bead of water as it rolls down the blonde’s collar bone and chest, catching on a pink nipple…

“Wow…” Prompto sighs, his cheeks a soft red from sheepishness.

“You _started_ it!” Noctis impatiently quips in response, but his smile gives him away. Prompto stammers in protest, but Noctis shakes his head, laughing a short, dorky laugh. He can feel the air catch in Prompto’s chest as he closes the distance between them. His arms snake around Prompto’s frame, and the two settle into the embrace they share, silent all the while.

“…what time is it?” Prompto’s voice is low and deep, muffled by the crook of Noctis’ neck. Noctis draws in a slow, sharp breath as the question returns him to his senses. Prompto is pushed back against the edge of the tub as Noctis’ lean for the phone on the floor next to them presses them closer together.

“10:07…” Noctis grunts, placing the phone upon the floor and meeting Prompto’s eyes.

“Guess we should sleep soon, huh?” Prompto gulps, and Noctis has to stop himself from laughing hysterically in his best friend’s face.

_‘Sleep. Really?!’_

Prompto takes a rag and lathers it with a rose and jasmine scented soap bar, scrubbing at his body that is concealed from the shoulders down by the water. Noctis, unsure with what to do while the other uses the bathtub for its intended purpose, grabs a rag and a cedar wood bar. They scrub themselves in silence, save for the occasional sound of their arms breaking the water’s surface as they clean their backs and necks.

“…You’re not actually gonna sleep after this, are you?” Noctis pipes up after some time, and Prompto quits staring at the bubbles only to glance wide-eyed at the other he shares the tub with.

“I – I mean – no?!” he stammers, placing the rag on the floor next to the tub. “I – I just got the impression you were nervous – “

"A little, yeah…” Noctis shrugs into the water, leaving only his collar bone upward exposed to the unmoving air of the bathroom. “But I still wanna – you know – “

“Yeah, we – _we will_ …” Prompto chews on his lip. “You – you ready?!” Prompto exhales, and Noctis nods slowly. He pulls the plug of the drain, not timing the motion with Prompto’s exit from the tub on accident. He misses the man’s naked frame as he wraps the towel around his waist, and Prompto tosses Noctis his own.

They slowly saunter into the bedroom, fluffy, light purple towels around their torsos. The carpet dampens where they track wet footsteps into the suite, and Prompto turns around to dry himself off. Noctis raises his eyebrows at his friend’s back before following suit.

 _‘Do we even bother putting on pajamas? Why are we hiding from each other?’_ Noctis wonders, his cock giving an involuntary twitch as he focuses on Prompto’s ass left exposed by the towel.

 _‘I mean, I guess he is a runner, and he’s always been pretty serious about his figure, even if he eats like shit. No wonder his ass is so great. But do I really wanna stick my dick in it?’_ Noctis further contemplates. But when the blonde lets the towel drop the floor, and he climbs upon his bed in all of his naked splendor, memories of his day dreams come to light, memories of Prompto sweaty and passionate beneath him –

_‘Yeah, I think I do…’_

“…You okay, Noct?” Prompto whispers from under the covers, and Noctis slowly nods, dropping his towel from his body as Prompto roots around in his camera bag. It takes all of Prompto’s control over his reflexes to not jump from nerves when the covers pull back. Noctis slides in next to him, the sheets slightly damp from where their skin still retains only the slightest, most subtle hint of bath water. Prompto scrolls determinedly through his phone, his mouth closed, eyes fixed upon the screen.

“…It doesn’t have to be weird, Prom, we’ve slept together tons of times – well not like _that_ …” he stumbles over his words.

“It’s not weird, I’m just, you know, _googling_ …” Prompto mumbles, but Noctis takes the phone and places it on the bed side table, forcing his friend to meet his eyes for longer than the rare second they stole from the other.

“We’ve been naked together before, we – we – look, Prom, I – I can’t tell you how many nights I’ve lied next to you wanting something, _anything_...”

Prompto closes his eyes, his shuddering breath jutting from his parted lips. They switch to lie on their sides, facing one another.

“Just pretend like I’m one of your art school girls –“

“But I don’t want to, Noct! It happened without thought, it was fast, over before I even knew it – I don’t want that with you…”

“Well, what is it you want?” Noctis spurs him on, not minding the pause in their progress, in so far it allows his rapidly beating heart to slow back down from his throat to his chest.

“I said already, remember? Just the chance to like, really be with you, to really have that connection with you…” Prompto pauses, laughing softly as he throws his head back at the ornately ornamented ceiling. “Sorry, this kinda thing isn’t exactly sexy, I guess…”

“Prom, I used to pop boners when you’d fall asleep on my stomach, okay?!” Noctis forcefully admits, thankful that his friend’s laughter visibly eases some of the tension that leaves him rigid. “Look, The Six couldn’t have arranged a more awkward relationship even if they tried, alright?”

“What about ice cream and the sun?” Prompto laughs, and Noctis shakes his head. “Orange juice and toothpaste?”

Noctis shakes his head again.

“Steak and applesauce?”

And again.

 _‘He won’t stop until I just go for it…’_ Noctis frowns, his eyes watching Prompto’s lips as they go to form another set of figurative contenders for their very objective title. _‘Sometimes a king just has to go for it, I guess…’_

“What about hot dogs and mayo –“

The blonde does not expect Noctis to smash their lips together, for the hand on his hip to crush their pelvises together, for Noctis to roll Prompto onto his back, for Noctis to straddle him. That is not to say he is ungrateful the other man does so. Prompto does not waste another second, sliding his hands through Noctis’ wet mop of hair as the pooling heat they both harbor in their abdomens grind against each other, eliciting a fit of ecstasy from the blonde he never experienced in any of his other sexual encounters.

The soft noise Noctis’ movement coaxes from Prompto’s throat works to completely replace what apprehension Noctis still harbors with pure desire. The warm bath water that still dries out of their pores is warm and steamy with their closeness and body heat. Sweat already begins to seep through their clammy, electrified skin, coating them in a sheen of approval from their satisfied bodies. The feeling of Prompto’s erection against his own causes Noctis to abandon all of his pretenses, his teaching and training and kingly coaching, and he cannot help but capture Prompto’s lips in hasty, unbridled sexual aggression.

“…if this isn’t what you want, Noct, I understand,” Prompto whispers as Noctis bites and sucks at his clavicle. “If you want to stop, or take it back, I promise I won’t make it awkward–“

“Stop…” Noctis grunts, drawing his leg up to Prompto’s hip, and pressing their erections and stomachs together. The motion causes Prompto to close his eyes and groan with need. “Is this what _you_ want, Prom?” Noctis asks quietly in return, his eyes unblinking as Prompto slowly opens his own and nods. He is somewhat taken aback when Prompto interrupts their kiss to slide from underneath him, sitting up.

“What’s up?” Noctis quietly wonders, his face alit with wonder and concern. But the blonde just stares at the body of the man he’s loved and wanted for so long, the body of his best friend, hero, and role model. His flesh is milky and smooth, unmarred, unlike Prompto’s own freckled, tanned frame. Noctis’ abs are defined, yet lithe, the base of his now fully erect cock crowned with neatly trimmed, pitch black hair. The inside of his thighs are smooth, and his breath hitches in his throat as Prompto reaches out to stroke them longingly.

“I just – I – I’ve just never seen you naked before…” Prompto whispers, and Noctis is left half frustrated that the other’s hands ghost dangerously close to his need, half taken aback with Prompto’s statement: the two truly _had_ never seen each other in such a state before. Prompto’s freckles, Noctis notices, plague his shoulder blades in asymmetrical clusters, his own abs contracting with his short, bated breaths. His own legs, however, are powerful and well defined, years of running and physical exertion to reach only the best of views for his photos suiting him well. His hips and arms are streaked with the occasional brazen, silver stretchmark. They are only visible if you study the man, fours in the sun give him a healthy, light golden shine, compared to Noctis’ fairness. His own cock, Noctis notices with a warm jolt that sends his hand to his aching arousal, is squatter and somewhat darker than Noctis’ own, whose length is long and skinny, his shaft hot and hard as blood rushes to the tip –

“See?! This – this is why I said I kinda wanted this with someone who would understand, who wouldn’t make fun of me– “

“Prom, it’s fine, okay?” Noctis laughs, throwing an arm around his shoulder. “I know you, I know how you are, and I love everything about you,” he nods, and Prompto breaks out in the most beautiful smile Noctis had ever seen of him yet. Blue and grey eyes fall shut as the two slowly kiss, their legs tangled, branch like around the other. He brings a hand to rub smooth circles in between his friend’s shoulder blades as he takes both of their cocks into his hand. Prompto only leans further against him, as if they are already not so impossibly close. But Noctis audibly purrs into Prompto’s mouth as he finds a steady, stroking rhythm, and he shudders as each slow pump douses his hand in another wave of mingled precum that spills from their touching heads.

Prompto’s soft whispering of Noctis’ name drives Noctis to press him flat against the bed again, his hand still gripping them both tightly, his thumb catching around the underside of Prompto’s head –

He is only going based off his own solo sessions, as well as gauging the reaction of the blonde, yet Prompto’s positive reactions leave him pleased, almost haughtily so. Perhaps Prompto had a point; being a virgin meant nothing, after all.

“Mm – _stop, stop, stop_ …” Prompto whimpers, placing a hand against Noctis’ chest.

“Everything okay?” the sound of his own voice gives Noctis goosebumps, for it registers that this moment is real, that he is actually pleasuring both himself and Prompto, the one who was supposed to be his best friend, his Glaive, his brother – not his boyfriend, his lover –

“Yeah, I just, uh – I’m pretty close, al—already…” Prompto’s chest is heaving, and their ignored cocks twitch against their abdomens, leaking and begging for more attention.

“So, uh –“ Noctis’ eyes grow wide. Surely the blonde means to imply putting of his _googling_ to practice.

“Only if you want to!” Prompto insists, wide-eyed now as well. Noctis, who uses his palms to hoist himself over his friend’s sweaty, aroused body, takes a moment to observe the scene around him. The sheets are tangled and wet with pre cum, sweat, and water. The blankets are kicked to the end of the bed, and a small jar rests against the bedside table.

“Should it be you? Or…or me…?” Noctis stumbles, but the question is answered by Prompto pressing their lips together, hungry and aggressive and sending him crashing on top of him once more.

“I mean, you did all the googling, Prom…”

“You just put that stuff on your dick and stick it in slowly, it’s not that hard – heh, get it…?” Prompto grins, and Noctis groans, albeit with a grin of his own.

“I hate you…” Noctis breathes and chuckles into the crook of Prompto’s neck, but he doesn’t truly; that fact the very reason why he lies on top of him, contemplating the idea of fucking him in the ass.

“Well, uh, how should we do this?” Noctis awkwardly wonders, scratching behind his neck and looking down at the one underneath him. Prompto shrugs, his lips tugging into an unknowning frown.

“Hand me my phone…” Prompto grunts, and Noctis blinks once before nervously obliging. “ _O—okay_ …”

The blonde scrolls silently for a few minutes, his face illuminated in the bright screen. He jumps and whines from pleasure as Noctis gives them both a few strokes for good measure. Unable to talk under the sensation of Noctis’ thumb gliding roughly across their slits, Prompto opts merely for silently turning the phone around.

“Y—yeah, I think that’d be the m—most practical position too…” Noctis whispers, leaning down to capture Prompto in slow long kisses. Their slow, continuous pace is interrupted by Prompto’s shaking hands dipping into the bottle of lube and lathering his friend’s cock generously in the substance. Even if the touches are for utilitarian purposes, it does not please Noctis any less.

“Okay, Prom, you ready?” Noctis whispers, his grey eyes meeting Prompto’s half lidded ones, the blonde nodding slowly twice. His body shakes from anything but _readiness_. He’d never engaged in an act so intimate, in such a delicate part of his body, let alone with someone as inexperienced as Noctis. But, Prompto realizes with a sigh, licking his lips and closing his eyes – the salty smells of their sexual prelude overwhelm the room, to which a window would assuredly need to be opened overnight – he has wanted nothing more for so long, and _before_ long, the likelihood of such a moment ever repeating itself between them would never arise again.

“Not at all, man, I’m pretty zoned out, but I think we need this…” Prompto shudders, and Noctis nods, his hand slowly stroking himself, his uncut foreskin sliding over his slick head with each pump. Prompto nods and awkwardly turns around to support himself on all fours.

 _‘The Six be fucked, what do I do…’_ Noctis slowly exhales. All he can do is sit frozen for some time, on his shins, cock gripped tightly in hand as he observes Prompto as he presents himself.

“Everything okay, Noct?” Prompto croaks, and Noctis responds with a few soft smacks against the top of Prompto’s ass.

“Yeah, yeah – I just – sorry –“

“Like I said, just like, put it in, I guess…”

“Okay, just relax, alright?” Noctis kindly instructs, but the advice is geared as much toward the sender of the wisdom as it is the recipient. He places his hand on Prompto’s hip to steady himself, the other hand holding his hardness steady as he slowly goes to guide it in between his cheeks –

“Everything okay back there?!” Prompto throws his head back to observe the red-cheeked Noctis, whose now dry hair hangs in front of his concentrated face.

“I think so…” he mumbles. The tip of his cock refuses to enter, instead sliding either up or down the crack instead. “What did google say about this part?”

“…I dunno, what part – oh oh oh oh _THAT PART_!” Prompto’s contemplation instantly turns into a slight wince, for Noctis’ tip finally finds the entrance, slipping in only just the ever slightest bit.

“You okay?!” Noctis instantly wonders, but his motion thrusts him even further forward, the blonde shrieking from shock and surprise.

_“FUCK, NOCT, WHAT THE FUCK MAN?!”_

“Fuck, Prom! My bad, my bad!” Noctis panics, eyes wide and mouth agape.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, just don’t fucking move, okay?!” Prompto begs, and Noctis nods quickly multiple times. The two of them sit as if made of stone for the minute it takes for Prompto's body to adjust to the sudden, less than gentle intrusion. Noctis grows lightheaded, his breaths are so short in an attempt to make sure his motions do not startle the one he enters.

“Okay…” Prompto softly whimpers. “ _Slowly_ , okay?”

“Sorry, Prom, I uh – I didn’t mean to –“

“Yeah, I know I know I know – “

The only word Noctis can use to describe the sensation of it all is _tight_. While he had no point of vaginal sex to compare it to, unlike Prompto, he cannot say, at least thus far, he would be at all opposed to making a weekly commitment out of sex with him. Prompto is impossibly tense and warm. The coolness of the lube that splatters the sheets in firework-shaped splatters and trickles down Noctis’ thighs spears it all into a duality he’d never thought to factor into love making. But that tightness, at least for Noctis, immediately threatens to spill him over the edge, and only a third of his cock actually penetrates the blonde below him –

But Prompto too, seems to find his own pace, his eyes closed, his upper body angled down against the sheets. He breathes through his mouth, half from attempts to relax, half from rhythmic, moaning pleasure. The sound of Prompto’s gentle whispers, coupled with the heat that squeezes his sensitive cock, causes his breath to rattle.

“Okay, now – _slowly_ slide out…” Prompto winces, inhaling sharply as Noctis diligently obeys his friend’s calls. Noctis watches as his hard clock slowly slides out, save for his tip. Slathering the visible shaft with lube for good measure, the slides in slowly once more, filling Prompto to the base.

“You okay?” Noctis’ question is left unanswered. Prompto’s hands clench the sheets, his eyes closed.

 _‘If he hated it, he’d say like he did before…’_ Noctis concludes, readjusting his legs and placing his hands on Prompto’s lithe hips. The second and third time he repeats the cycle, still patient and careful, Prompto offers no protest. Selfishly grateful, Noctis furrows his brow at the sound of Prompto’s rhythmic, breathy moans, the sound instantly rushing waves of pleasure to his throbbing need.

“Noct, I think I’m gonna – “ Prompto can barely pant in between waves of pleasure, Noctis blinking rapidly from surprise. He hadn’t been in him very long. But his passionate whines and soft moans instantly take hold of Noctis’ consciousness, causing him to buck his hips with increased speed –

“ _Noct_ …” Prompto whimpers again, although his voice is strained and lacking bass, thus Noctis knows to continue further. He is hit with a sudden wave of understanding, for Noctis feels that same telltale heat and pressure.

“Noct –“ Prompto tries to pleasurably interject, but Noctis does not register his friend’s voice, his eyes closed and head thrown back as he picks up his pace. The slapping sound of their actions mingle with Prompto’s groaning and growling, and he feels as Prompto’s entire body tenses below him, the blonde moaning a desperately–

The erratic tension causes Noctis’ own orgasm to surface, and the two of them buck irregularly as the final waves of climax leave them both spent and lightheaded. They pant, and Prompto groans as Noctis slides out of him, mourning the feeling of fullness.

“ _Duuuuuude_ ….” Prompto whispers, chest heaving, entire body soaked with sweat. Noctis rolls onto his back, panting as well. The back of his hand rests against his soaked forehead, his cock still twitching from residual pleasure.

“…Are you okay?” Noctis whispers, eyes still closed.

“I mean, I can’t move, because my ass is on fire, and I feel like I gotta take the world’s biggest shit, and I’m _pretty sure_ you came in my ass?!” Prompto offers at once as soon as the wind returns to his lungs, and Noctis opens his eyes and turns his head to him before laughing hysterically.

“ _Not_ funny!” Prompto snaps, Noctis weakly sliding closer to his best friend. “Wait, are you serious?”

“YES I’M SERIOUS!” Prompto shouts, and Noctis recoils and laughs, shushing him in between chuckles.

“I flat out cannot move dude, my ass legit just feels like a block of concrete now,”

“Sorry…” Noctis shamefully mumbles, but Prompto sinks into the pillows, the rest of his body rigidly still.

“I mean, I had the hardest orgasm of my life, and apart from the brief like, _battering ram_ feeling at first, turns up sticking things up your ass is pretty nice if you like the dick doing it. I kinda had the best sex of my life with the _love_ of my life, even if I lost feeling in my whole body and it was weird and awkward and _really_ short – “

“YOU CAME FIRST!” Noctis instantly defends himself, vehement, but careful to monitor his volume.

“But it was way better than anything I could ever have with anyone ever…” Prompto smiles, and Noctis pulls him closer against him, resting his head on Prompto’s clammy chest.

“So, how’s it feel not being a virgin anymore?” Prompto tiredly sighs, and Noctis shrugs. “I dunno. Kinda feels the same…” Noctis begins, and he can feel the heat of his breath transform into condensation against Prompto’s skin. “Don’t really care about the virgin part, as much as – well, nevermind…”

“No, what?” Prompto perks up, and Noctis rolls his eyes as a preface to his own words.

“I just – I dunno. I’d be a virgin for the rest of my life if it meant I could always share it with _just_ you…”

“Uh, Noct? Even if just you and I are having sex, that would mean you were _having sex,_ and you wouldn’t be a virgin…” Prompto laughs as Noctis pouts, pressing the pillow against his face.

“But I get what you mean…” Prompto whispers, his voice devoid of humor after his laughter finally subsides. “I’ve wanted this with you for a while…” he tiredly continues, and Noctis slowly emerges from his blanket prison. “A really long time…”

“Well you wouldn’t know it with the way you follow girls around…”

“Come on, Noct, don’t be dumb…” Prompto frowns, and Noctis pulls him close again.

“Well, maybe next time we can last a bit longer…” Noctis darkly mutters, but Prompto only sighs at the jest.

“I dunno if there _will_ be a next time, Noct…”

Noctis’ smile falters, and almost like being awoken abruptly from a dream, he remembers the very nature of circumstances surrounding their present arrangement.

“We gotta sleep, and I gotta try to figure myself out so I can walk tomorrow, and the others don’t suspect anything…” Prompto’s voice is injected with an unmissable sense of false cheeriness, and the young king knows his Glaive well enough to easily tell the difference between the two.

“I love you, Prom…” is all Noctis has the energy to rebuttal with – not just given the exhaustion that washes over them both, but also given the words are short and sweet, addressing every concern that hangs on every word of Prompto’s worry.

“I love you too, Noct…” Prompto mutters back, conceding as Noctis’ conversational queen checkmates Prompto’s messy, complicated game of emotional chess. The silence and darkness leaves Noctis alone to start a mental game of his own. Kings do what is right. Kings press ever onward and lead. Kings marry queens, even if that should mean there will never be a next time. But, Noctis realizes with a sharp sadness as he cradles Prompto closer against him, the smell of spent semen and sweat reminding him to slip out of bed and open the window.

Noctis realizes the futility in reconciling kingly duty with his own personal want and happiness. A task impossible. He smirks as he leans against the window sill, the only smell saltier than their sweaty sex being that of the sea _. “The Six couldn’t have arranged a more awkward relationship, even if they tried right?”_ the memories of Noctis’ words tease him in his seclusion. But indeed they could, he realizes with a pane of awkwardness. He sighs as he turns back around to observe Prompto as he sleeps, rigid and awkward due to clenching pain he experiences from the waist down.

 

_‘My duty and my happiness.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yall i hate smut. i fucking HATE it. well, writing it anyway. im TERRIBLE AT IT. but i promised i'd write it and i'm a lady of my word so there y'all go. THIS CHAPTER IS 41 PAGES IN WORD LITERALLY MURDER ME.
> 
> i know i said this was the end for me but i lied


	6. Without You, The Color of the World Is Boring

If ever a history book had forgotten a specific detail in its attempt to chronicle the lives of the The Six, it is the depths and lengths of their artistry.

Condensation builds upon the glass pane of the hotel windows, as delicately brushed by the permanently moist fin of Leviathan’s tail protruding from the sea below. Diluted pinks and faded oranges meld into the Sun as it crowns over the horizon, Ifrit’s fiery contribution to the celestial canvas.

Rocky, jagged mountains in the distance spike upward into the sky, eternal monuments memorializing Titan’s rage as he struck the earth long ago.

Where even Noctis mentally fights his body’s insubordinate attempt to wake at a reasonable hour, his mind cannot hold out against the static charge that energizes him in the brightness of the morning, as if prodded once by the tip of Ramuh’s finger.

The chill of Shiva’s breath lingers in the early morning air, light on the breeze that whips across the shore, breezing sand about.

Wispy white stratus clouds streak across the sky in eternal strokes, slashed into the horizon by Bahamut’s wings as he took his place amongst the stars that now fade into morning, content to watch over the world.

Even divine masterpieces eventually lose their impact, the beauty of this particular dawn proving to be no exception.

Noctis’ phone chirps in a grouping of ten, high-pitched chimes. The vibrations shrill in jarring waves against the oak surface of the dresser. The bedroom, still and bathed in the muted purple and grey of the sunrise, is selectively illuminated by his invasively bright lock screen as it flashes in time with his alarm.

A missed text flashes across the screen from Ignis as his movements jostle the device.

_Did you two ever manage to grab dinner? If not, you will have to wait for breakfast in the morning, which starts early. Best you both make it in time, for our departure to Altissa is just as early._

The message is enough to encourage Noctis’ nervous system to cooperate.

His legs flail themselves free from sheets once tangled and curled against his body like ivy. He winces and recoils as he accidentally kicks Prompto next to him, who responds with a kick to Noctis’ own shins, a groan, and a roll over.

The soles of his feet hit the shadow of the nearly frozen floors, and his hand instantly curls to the small of his back to satisfy a sudden itch that pinches his once-sweaty-but-now-dried skin.

Noctis shivers. The cold that emanates from the jet black, rolling waves their room overlooks ruthlessly attacks his naked skin. He reflexively brings his arms to curl along his abdomen.

Said chill leaves the naked Prompto cold and huddled into the mattress for warmth. The plush, purple sheets and blankets wrap around his body, cloaking what little body heat he maintains like a close secret.

His best friend lies awake, albeit barely. His eyes are still heavy with sleep, watering against the lids he can barely prevent from crashing shut in an attempt to sleep the entire day away. Smiling groggily, Noctis steals a look at the mass of hair that begins to stir, a messy blonde sun rising from the valley of pillows.

The other must sense his best friend’s stare, albeit he does so with a throaty groan.

The calm, rhythmic sounds of the ocean below almost lull Noctis back to sleep himself, piping a tune soothing enough that leads him back to the bed. He falls onto the curled outline of Prompto’s legs, his best friend yelping impatiently.

“You know? I’m starting to find it _really_ weird how much less gentle you are the morning after finally getting some action…” Prompto rubs his eyes, his tone light, though carrying the weight of his exhaustion under his annoyance.

Noctis shifts his body weight to support his chin as he grins, snorting as he begins to laugh. The slope of Prompto’s upper body as he begin to sits up, protruding from the blankets, his own smirk, the rising of his pale shoulders as a laugh joins Noctis’ own – for the first time in years, Noctis finds he could not be any happier.

“Sorry for the kick to the shin,” Noctis offers.

“No big, Noct. I figured it was aimed more at the woes of having to get up, rather than me personally,”

“More like a lack of motor skills,” Noctis grins, and Prompto sneers, eyes lidding.

“Funny, _I’m_ the one who’s still kinda sore down there…”

For the most fleeting of moments, Noctis debates addressing the unspoken acknowledgment of what had transpired between them the night before – thought both his growling stomach and Prompto pulling Noctis against him stop the impulse.

 “Whaddaya think Iggy’s got goin’ on for breakfast…?” Prompto mumbles against Noctis’ cool, dry skin, a smile on his lips, closing his eyes.

“…Oh yeah, he texted me about it last night…” Noctis finally answers after a few silent, thoughtful seconds, distracted by Prompto’s quickly warming body. He cranes his neck down to kiss him softly on the cheek, his hand clawing lazy, soothing strokes through his hair.  “Said that breakfast is served downstairs pretty early,”

“Oh yeah, hotels usually have breakfast for guests, I guess…” Prompto mumbles, locking his fingers with Noctis’.

“I wouldn’t know, I’ve never been anywhere without royal amenities…” Noctis realizes with a soft shock.

“Well, as long as they have something, I’m absolutely starving. I could probably eat a pillow, dude…”

“Yeah, we forgot to get dinner last night…” Prompto adds, and Noctis briefly seizes with a surge of nervousness; they certainly had not forgotten, merely that other activities took priority. Had they even truly occurred? Clearly they must have, they are naked and sticky, wrapped in the other, and Prompto is still careful not to move his lower half more than he needs to.

Neither rush to break their comfortable silence.

Noctis extends a hand to grab his phone as it buzzes against the bedside table, his lower body being pulled down by Prompto into a slow, salty kiss.

_It is seven-thirty and Gladio and I have secured a table downstairs near the window. I suggest you two do not waste any further time meeting us down here. I get the impression many of the guests intend to take the ferry to Altissa and we want to be sure we can secure our place._

“Iggy proddin’ us along?” Prompto grunts, Noctis gutturally groaning in response.

“Think so…” Noctis opens his eyes to meet Prompto’s, the warmth in their smiles enough to burst them both into flame. “You comin’?” he adds, Prompto nodding into the kiss Noctis manages to steal before rising and headed toward the bathroom.

“You know it, Noct,” he whispers, and no Daemon or Astral’s plan would lead him astray. “Ever at your side.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They go downstairs to breakfast and get news of Niflheim's invasion of Insomnia. Cue game events and canon to take over from here, granted with more stolen moments between the two :>. Maybe a happier ending while we're at it.
> 
> I promised an ending to Lessons, and I have delivered. I still love Promptis and all, but I'm only two weeks into a Phd in a new city and helping my husband move internationally both physically and diplomatically. I've only just gotten back into America myself. Got a lot going on. Dunno when Children will be updated! Maybe soon, maybe not! 
> 
> Thanks for all of your support over the last few months! It's been so much fun. I've met so many cool people, both irl and online! TinyScienceGreenHouse was radtastic fun, and Angerama is coming to visit for a long weekend in November and I'm PUMPED AS HELL!


End file.
